A little too little, a little too late . . .

Being Sick (Written February 12, 2013)

Isn’t it strange how events rearrange
When sickness keeps you at home?
You see all the world around you unfurl
But you are stuck there on your own.

That feeling you get, boredom, regret,
When watching the hours go by,
When you open your eyes and then realize
There is no good reason why.

No reason for you to have skipped one or two
Days you should have been there for,
Now the world’s gone on, the taxi is gone,
And you are left sitting there, bored.

Worse, perhaps, as you sit and time lapse,
Is to notice that staying was right,
That you are unwell, to sickness you fell,
That it is a fight you cannot fight.

So sit in your home, sick and alone,
And hope as the morning swells,
That the sickness is gone, you’re fine, can move on,
In the end, once again, you are well.

___

(Sorry, this ended up being posted a tad bit later than intended.) I hate being sick. I don’t normally get sick, but when I do it is always bad. While such debilitating  occurrences such as grave injury are definitely higher on my list of hates/fears, sickness is pretty high. Especially when it is something silly, and insignificant, but still highly contagious . . .like, say, pink eye. Ah, I hate pink eye.  Luckily, my eyes are green, so when the whites turn red my eyes look really green. C=

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