Confined to bed, weak and ill
Abandoned alone lacking in will
Wrapped in blankets,sheets and duvets
All week long, not just on Tuesdays.
I’m filling my time
Thinking up rhymes
Hardly can do a thing
But wanting to do many.
There’s a poem to make
And a picture to paint
There’s a garden to tend,
While I mend.
There’s a letter to pen
Maybe even ten,
There are spuds to peel
While I heal.
There’s washing to do
Crocks and dishes too
Shopping to buy
While I revive.
There’s a walk to take,
And cakes to bake
A hill to climb
At this very time.
I don’t want to write a letter
I just want to feel better
I don’t want to be a bore
I just want to restore.
I can no more be a poet
Than I can play a duet
I ca’t do my best
When I need to rest
I can do without the walk,
If I could maybe have a talk
I can miss out on the cake
It only keeps me awake.
Will the doc have me treated
i hope this illness can be cheated,
Meanwhile I stick to daydreaming
That my life will soon have more meaning.
ruhazlitt 