My Pillow is an Endurance

My pillow is an endurance,
The pillow shares my secrets
On it there were painted
Colorful flowers so bright,
Every evening I water
The sad flowers
With tears of my eyes.
The buds would laugh.
Every night make
A compromise with day
The tolerance ending
The missing leaks tick-ticking.
Scared from this noise
Its flight a butterfly would take
Sitting on the flower
Leaking down a little pool
My tears would make.
Being tired of my grieves
The flowers would joyfully float
On the streams down.
No sign is left
on the pillow
from the flowers, alas.
In the desert of love
I’m still wandering
Its tolerance being overfilled one day
Would the flood of missing
drown me too.

by Uktamoy Khaldorova