Poetry / ode to my pillow
flakey old pillow.
i get the close up
view as i lay in bed.
yellow with age,
its true colors come
out when it is bared.
i have no problem
with the way it looks…
it is a pillow all the same,
serving its purpose under my head…
holding my tears,
capturing my drool,
even being so kind as to leave
stains of smeared make up
to remind me of long nights.
no, my pillow is just fine.
Old and comfortable,
worn down and yet
lovely enough to offer support.
To this flakey pillow,
you are my closest friend.
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Unique; I wouldn’t have thought to write about my pillow. Most people can easily relate to this.
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This such a perfect poem about a pillow. Minor spell fixes and capitalization errors. Flakey-Flaky. i should be I. Make up-Makeup. etc. and drop using a stream of …. unless you just want to be a rebel and then your after my own heart.
Nicely composed!
I have a pillow like that! I liked your poem, it makes me appreciate the “comforts” in my own life. A favorite old shirt, pair of jeans, or a blanket. Unconditional love…yep, that’s what we all want.
Good luck with your poetry!
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