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When the hurt, the aches and the loss
Invade the days of our troubling life;
The burdens will drag their heavy cross,
Into the dark nights like a sharp knife.
We who toss and lie awake all nights,
Living nightmares in which hope dies;
Against the pillow we engage in fights,
Weary of the sick world that often cries.
There upon the top, the pillow rests,
Inviting so lovingly its restless guests;
Cottony, soft and comforting as best,
The love that shares its sleeping nest.
Its presence is beyond bed and mattress,
And the comfort they both may lay;
Without it, no bed is a resting fortress,
To ease and help the aching body per se.
The pillow is the denominator of love,
Two heads share it with loving hearts;
It affirms intimacies knitted from above,
And promotes closeness which it imparts.
We recognize its bonding to fullest extent,
Admiring its dream weaving with no taboo;
Reminding us of the beloved every moment,
Thus how can we sleep lest to it be glued.
I cherish the pillow for my love's scent,
For caressing her hair and her face too,
For keeping her image as a full imprint,
Even when my love is away in curfew.
I'll always treasure my inviting pillow,
On which I reminiscence along the way;
I rest on it my head as a loving fellow,
Reliving the joys and sorrows of the day.
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