Quarter To Seven: Five Cushions Poem by Hima chan

I had fallen
and yet there were
five cushions who propped me up

One kept hitting me on my head
Telling me
'Free your ambitious mind'

Another kept on smiling
(and at some points wincing)
as it supported me

Another one was rolling around
but it kept coming back
to snuggle close to me

One seemed so far off
but it knew (as I did)
that it was only near

And another one kept silent
laughing at my tears
holding my hand
as it caught me
absorbing all my woes away

All five pillows
were all that remained
after two weeks

And I pray
they would still be there.