A pillow here,
a pillow there,
a pillow skyward
into the air.
A cloud up there
it may not be
nor a marshmallow
for me to see.
A pillow here,
a pillow there,
off the bed to
the floor I share.
I wrestle nightly
with my pillows.
At times they feel
like armadillos.
Curled tight as
if to protect
many dreams and
a few regrets.
A pillow here,
a pillow there,
if you ask nice
I might just share.
But my dreams
are mine to keep;
they bring comfort
while I sleep.
A pillow here, a pillow there. If you ask nice, I might just share.
Booker's Blog 