1 January 2013

I sit here in my bedroom Tip tap typing away As the sounds of the sick stir beyond my door

I can hear the retching I can hear them hovering above the garbage can, the sink, the toilet

Their harsh coughs and their low rumbles Their pasty pallor and sickly sheen

I wish it would end Not for my sake, but for theirs They seem so miserable

And so sick.

© Dana L. 2013

sunpatronusSickness • Opuss № I