Ailing

I hear the raindrops plop like the sound of a slot unlocked. I fear the passing dusking as the days of the year leave. Time is going by so slowly, so surely. Time is flying by so quickly, so uncertainly. I feel down as I let out a frown, hoping he cometh home soon. I lay on the bed as if I am dead, believing His cure shall be a boon. Time is flowing on, even as my time is almost gone. Time is going by so fatefully, so mysteriously.