Through My Pillow...

Through my pillow I can hear
Padding footsteps, climbing stairs
The soft breathing of sleep
Someone singing a lullaby
The icy wind begging to be let in, banging against the doors and barricaded against it.
The still silence of words yet unspoken, that will change the world tomorrow,
The still silence of everyone locked in their own little worlds.

Through my pillow I can see
Phantoms treading through dark as if treading on eggshells,
A mother cuddling her little child after being snatched from sleep by a nightmare's claw.
An old man, sleeping, alone in his room, breathes his last breathe and after a long, contented life his soul slowly slips from him.
Two starry eyed lovers sitting in an orchard, counting the stars that hang like apples from the bough of the night, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Through my pillow I can feel
The coldness of the children sleeping in sacks on the streets
The air is warm and clammy but their hearts are stony cold.
The fuzzy warmth of children with mothers to safely tuck them in at night and sing to them,
Of babies too young to take it for granted.
Feelings I've never felt before-
Of a spurned lover, sleeping on his own for the first time since forever,
Of a young girl curled in tears on the sofa wishing he'd only have her back.
Of an old man staring at a photograph of his wife,
Knowing he'll never see her again or feel her next to him.
Of a young bride, ready to spend the night in her grooms arms.