Come to my chamber, lover. Come to rest upon my pillow. For in the divine black, when moonlight sings to heavens-matched souls, there is a sense of peace that is our holy grail.
Upon the pillow, my head supported in the most divine of ways, a sense of calm arrived, always a good omen for the dreams of night.
This pillow was embroidered by my Grandmother's loving hand, and so its thread is her good wishes for my onwards future.
The pillow was a welcoming midnight blue, as if it were fashioned from the twilight heavens.
My head upon the pillow spoke to my soul of home, of sanctuary and rest.
The pillow had a fullness that spoke optimistically of good dreams.