The empty pillow next to mine
Waits only for that precious time
When you will come into my bed
And evermore there rest your head
It does not smile, nor does it weep
It only waits in pretend sleep
And keeps a watch for your sweet face
And as it does, it holds your place
It seems to guard its secrets well
For I have touched the edge of hell
From wanting you with pain that grows
But not the pillow...it just knows
If I should rest upon it there
Perhaps my friend will softly share
The peace it holds, and how to 'know'
And give me strength...to just let go
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem