Sharing Pillows

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 shall tell you
hopefully you’ll look at pillows in other plays.

When you were young, a child in mother’s arms
she watched over you, keeping you from harm.
When you ran a fever and were so very ill,
your mother fluffed cool pillows, keeping her vigil.

Later you, a teen, slumber parties or overnights
there soon would be the ultimate pillow fight.
Later, married, when pillows became a thrill
between bed’s sheets, carefully placed by will.

Then in your life, these pillows would form
a nesting spot 'tween 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 life’s last and final page,
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 leave my essence of life
To be breathed in deeply by my now widowed wife.”

20 August, 1999
©KRJ