Jeffrey Hull

Patience

© 2006 Rick Lee by permission - all rights reserved


So many holes in ceiling tile;
   Here flat upon my back
I count a while, but have to smile:
   It's hard to not lose track.

The busy little IV pump
   Tick-ticks away the day;
A nurse, quite plump, assaults my rump
   With daggers from her tray.

Some muffled voices from the hall
   Enhance my fitful rest;
Miraculous I sleep at all
   And am not more depressed.

What visitors come by exude
   A wooden kind of cheer;
While I'm not rude, I must conclude
   My days are numbered here.

The drooping flowers on the sill,
   The cards with, "Get Well Soon";
Well what the hell, I sooner will
   Be skiing on the moon.

I'd like to go home just to check
   The mail and stop the News ...
My body's more or less a wreck,
   My psyche sings the blues.

So many holes in ceiling tile,
   Like stars on heaven's dome;
I count them, then I snooze a while
   And dream I am back home.


© 2005 Jeffrey Hull