Pink dream, cotton candy
Like a warm-hearted cancer
Snugged in my palm tightly
hushing my nightly distress with an answer.

Gently tuck you in my pillow case
Wish for calming waves to drift me away

Time after time, night after night
Second after second

Heavy-lids say farewell to
Non-existent slumber

Rose Quartz

Echoes.
Reverberating off the kitchen walls
Little children scream and laugh and play.
They prance and pace in circles through the halls
And chase the dreary drip of tears away.

Pictures.
Their tiny hands created works of art
Hung proudly on the fridge for all to see.
A stick figure with pigtails and a little scarlet dress:
“That’s you, Mama!” she said, “And look, here’s me!”

Cyphers.
Her whispered words would tickle Daddy’s ear.
“Your Majesty!” She bowed, with sweet doe eyes.
He melted at her feet as she drew near;
He scooped her up, and kissed his sweetest prize.

Embers.
A sleepy fire flickers, soft and mild.
She yawns and lays to rest her tousled head.
Her mother smiles and hums a lullaby to seal the spell;
She's sleeping by the fire, but awakes snug in her bed.

Rain patters lightly out the window behind us,
The transparent white curtains,
A dark rug,
Filled with little vines of dark yellows, reds, and greens,
So soft, and so familiar,
Pillows up against the wall by the window,
Pillows off to the right by the wall,
All different;
Save for two.

These two pillows,
The memories they store,
This could be a thing of lore,
Or a thing of bore.

Sequins of ruby on one side,
Sequins of sapphire on the other,
Constantly, some are scattered on the opposite side,
Done by one so mischievous,
Done by one so magnificent,
One whom I hold dear,
Whom I shall never reveal.

We sit there, in this corner,
Under the window,
Rain pattering outside,
Soothing, and familiar,
The scent of them, faint but there,
Soothing and familiar as well.

Sitting so closely,
The light dim,
We smile and simply enjoy the moment,
A moment thought only to be of fantasy,
Yet here we are,
In this moment shared,
So generously spared.

There we were,
Soon there again we shall be,
Not soon, but in time,
Returning to that place again,
Beneath that window,
Those curtains,
The pillows and rug,
The many different,
And the two alike,
Them always messing them up,
Irritating me, yet satisfying me,
Making me thus content.

- Jay M
March 22nd, 2019