To Ms Shaw Kenawe on the Sad Occasion
of Her Recent Illness
It grieves me that Thou must take to Thy Bed
With any but a Lover fair and true.
The Wine of Life poured next or ‘neath the Spread ––
Made rancid, bitter, toxic by the Flu ––
Thus spoilt is put to waste, while precious Time
Ebbs –– diminishes –– recedes from View ––
Drifting farther from the sought Sublime ––
Denying Thee Contentment, perhaps, due.
But then, ‘tis often said, “Into each life
Some Rain must fall.” Alas! ‘Tis all too true.
I know of none who have escaped the Strife
That comes with Illness. E’en the Chosen Few
Must bear their share of Care. ‘Tis only fair.
To disagree, methinks, Thou wouldst not dare.
~ FreeThinke - February 7, 2013
|If this doesn't lift your|
spirits, Ma'am, we may
begin to mourn.
Please get well soon!