Pillow

From infant deep I reach for adultís hand,
and clasp it to its o so perfect spot,
as I fall, vulnerable, to dreamland,
where all thought of having control is naught.

My sleepís indispensable companion,
without whom, I do toss and turn and stare
with wide awake blinks in nightís dark canyon
with a dread that dreads there is no there there.

Soft, malleable, ever silent, yet,
firm and distinct as constant talisman
against real imagined fear I get
while unmoored from awake in sleepís ocean.

Little life saver in immense dream sea,
with you by my side I bear all I see.