the sharp scent of pillow cases
washed months ago-
sitting in linen closets, waiting
for the right time to replace
dirty worn in versions of themselves.
they are crisp and ready
pliable enough for heavy heads
that are longingly courting sleep
and they wait there unadorned
at the beginning of dreams-
their sweet smell
transporting the reposed to
long-ago memories.
slacking slowly sleepily
drifting together in an imaginary breeze
by the sea-
by the mountains-
by the forest-
by the side of a lost love.
and they rest unadorned
cradling the warm faces
drinking in the tears
of unattained dreams
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