Cough

I have heard her rasping cough for more than fourteen days. The gasping of her breath and softly muttered prayers. I have listened out for sound at night and wondered if a silence might mean something good, or not so right, for more than fourteen days. And in between it, all is quiet, no tracking of all Heathrow flights above our roof through days and nights. Just cough to break each cough respite, just cough from viral's gripping blight. Yet, with it all a blessing. Remembered far more fondly now the reason why we fell in love, and tender looks and softer touch and tending to her body pain a heart which swells with love again as rush and hurry slow. And in it all much greater gain as deeper love still grows.