Today's Diary

She is too ill today Not a day to feel poetic Virus laid fever's prey Pray work the antibiotic. Her eyes today in weakness closed Her head sunk in pillow Verses are dry in a mind morose Pains her face in fever's glow. At six o'clock I whispered to her Time for the antibiotic She saw me in a hazed blur Not a word she could speak. Teatime came she didn't get up I still made it for two In trembling hand she held the cup She couldn't refuse my brew. Gnaws me despair when she's ill Still a novice at basic kitchen work Never learned the skill to make the day's meal Where are things I grope in the dark. She says feels no good to lie down like this My fever is gone with the sweat I know for anything she would ever miss Seeing me off at the gate!