Listening to every heart
You know how it is, you have that special pillow
the one that fits just your head, your way?
Well, there’s a little story I want to tell you
and hopefully you’ll look at pillows in another way.
When you were very young, a child in mother’s arms
she was the one who watched over you, keeping you from harm.
When you would run a fever and be so very ill,
your mother was there fluffing cool pillows, keeping her vigil.
Later a teen were you, slumber parties or overnights
and there soon would be the ultimate pillow fight.
Later a married person, when pillows became a thrill
between the bed’s sheets, carefully placed by will.
Later in your life, these pillows would form
the nesting spot between mother, father and baby warm
a place of comfort, love, and sharing hearts
from which place you’d not want to part.
Skipping through time, where you’re now aged
leafing through your life’s last and final page,
the pillows take on a new and different rapport
as they hold the remains of your inner core.
“So bless me, Lord, when I should pass along,
allow my head to be on my pillow, where I belong.
Take thee my soul, but please leave my essence of life
To be breathed in deeply by my now widowed wife.”
20 August, 1999
Words will always express our feelings true. ~~~ KRJ
Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
[This message has been edited by Sunshine (edited 08-20-99).]