Illness Plight

Listen my friends and you will hear
the plight of the chronically ill

Where simple tasks become a chore
and depression lurks behind every door

Open a door we hear you say
but our poor fingers disobey

Twist around to clean up the floor
but our poor muscles dislike this chore

Changing a light bulb — once a simple task
now requires a flashlight

And patience that no longer lasts

So you see dear friends

Enjoy your sprightly steps
and nimble fingers

For in time
you may find

You’re just as brittle
as the rest of us

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About sandrabranum

I'm a philosopher, dreamer, poet, writer -- not necessarily in that order -- and I get to write it all down and share it with the world thanks to the Wonderful World Wide Web!
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