My Sleeping Haven

In the window it lay, lifeless, empty
wanting to be loved
My younger 10 year old self rushes in
to the crowded store, attracted by
the rainbow of colours;
pillow in one hand, my mother’s hand in the other.
I walk out, glee evident in my face
Tucked into the corner,
pulled out for adventures,
it fills day after day; year after year
memories in all
from the Eiffel tower
to the beaches of Bali
It’s seen it all
soft as a cloud, it awaits
to next to be used.
A teleporter, transporting you
to a sleeping haven:
my travel pillow.