I build
a pillow you
a construct to
get me through
nights
without you.
It takes 4 pillows
to be you
(head) (chest)
(hips) (legs)
those precious
pts.of contact.
(Ahh...the stigmata
of abscence) .
I build
a pillow you
but somehow
it just don't do
what it
ought
to do.
Who
am
I
?
(poor fool)
fooling
when only
the real you
will do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No Dónall, you're right, only the real us will do. Next weekend seems long way off! But worth waiting for the real you. All my love from Jan x