Pillow Sense Poem by Alan Strand

I rest my weary head,
Drooping my tired eyes down
As I drift softly away
Into the silky darkness
Of that unfathomed nocturnal abyss
In which lies sleep’s bliss.

I breathe in deeply
The fuzzy formlessness
Of fantasies
Fuelled by
Your sweet scent
On my pillow.

I pull it in tight
So that I might
Dream of you
Lying beside me.

And like an unsung lullaby
That only a quiet and loving heart can hear,
I resonate with your faint
But lasting allure.

(08/10/22,0115 hours, after Laurence left my place for the first time.)