Pillow

I try to get comfortable in my bed
But there's always something wrong
with the pillow ‘neath my head.
It's either too warm or sometimes too cold.
I turn it, pummel it
Then toss it aside instead.
But then I miss it and can't decide
Shall I grab it again
Or count to ten?
How can I sleep with no support?
My neck gets stiff. My eyes won't close
And all because of the pillow I chose.

Maybe I need a silk pillowcase,
one that's fringed with fancy lace.
Or maybe it's not the pillow to blame.
Maybe it's my head that's not the same.
It's filled with words and melodies
That makes my pillow hard to please.
I'll try to get comfortable again tonight.
It's my head on that pillow
or a pillow fight.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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