The Wet Pillow by Naushena

All night long she wept and wept
Released the tears she had kept
Containing all her woes
Those were her worst foes;
For they snatched her dignity
And left her with self-pity.
Whatever she did went wrong
Life was not a happy song.
It dried her throat
In a flood she did float,
Of sorrows and grief.
Life was yet so brief
But like a road of sweltering heat
On which she trudged bare feet,
Looking for a shade somewhere
But she found it nowhere.
On her pillow she bent.
At last, the night silently went.
Morning ray broke the day
And on the bed lay, the pillow,
Wet like a willow.




Naushena is a poet, an early years teacher on hiatus and a mother of three. She has written many poems on various subjects. Though she started writing when she was a sophomore, it was recently only that she thought to get her work published. Besides poetry, she also writes short fiction and essays. Her work has appeared in Scarlet Leaf Review, Mothers Always Write, Boston Literary Magazine and Mamalode’s print journal.

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