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!