Pillow

My blue pillow full of lace,

so intoxicatingly chaste.

She puffs her sweet face to offer me a taste.

Her memories smell vintage,

like her old Dehra house. Her cotton skies whisper into my sheer white blouse.

She croons like a mother

but delights me as a lover.

All the while she holds me safe in her soft, heavy arms.

When I snore, she sighs. She welcomes me home. I stay for as long as noon and let my universe roam.

She shows me paper boats that swim a gentle stream,

their sails kissing her winter breath washed in sunbeam.

When I must go, I weep, but she dries away my tears.

She's alone until we tire of life and meet to cohere.

My blue pillow; she's pure

and my only night cure.