They are the only ones that comfort me. I am the only one who embrace’s them. Four cozy pillows with soft cotton covers and scalloped edges. Four that belong only upon my mattress. Four hopeless soul’s never seeing daylight. From my bed I can hold them but no one understands their security.

Their support is matchless. They give me a place to lay my head. They fluff up and fluff down and sometimes disappear within the sea of blankets. This is how they rest.

When grabbed, they form to the shape of the beholder, each giving comfort in a different way. Sleep, sleep, sleep, pillows say when I lay down to rest. They insist.

When I am tired and sick I just keep sleeping, when I am in the mood to be away from others, then I grasp my pillows. When there is no one to see or nothing to do. Four who complete my decorated my room. Four who welcome and do not reject. Four whose only use is to comfort and comfort.