Tentatively Yours

 

If we are to heal,

There has to be a hope

That someday it will be complete

That all the things that festered

Will have finally unwound

From the brain, the heart

Any infected organs

That persistence of pain will

Be replaced

With something like assurance in

Confidence of being well

That the counting that has met

Each day

Now useless

Will give way

To errands, nothing much

A nothing kind of day

Wouldn’t that be nice

Wouldn’t that be lovely

To have a day that’s dulled by

Anything but pain

Not to be morose

For what I have

I’ll still wrap around mortality

Until the glorious surprise

Of the next thing

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Michael Anfang on Unsplash