Poemattic: Poetry and Art for the Soul

one can squeeze it without

it protesting

the sweet aroma that remains

of the dreams

you wish would come true someday

but hope deep inside

you keep dreaming about them anyway

 

soft and fluffy

like clouds be

filled with foam or feather

especially in cold weather

one can puff it

plunk it

or drape it over one’s head

hug it and hug it again or

flatten it out

like a pancake

shape it

to suit your fancy

like southern comfort;

it’s home.

 

Nothing is

more delightful

than one’s own pillow

on a plane

in a car

on a cot

in a hammock

on someone else’s guest bed

It is just the perfect spot

to rest one’s head

because of course now

pillows have a memory.