John Bertin Poet Rhyme

Pandemic

Lay down your tired bones
Down in your hospital bed
Those spots on both your arms
Are glowing a bright red

Stare up at the TV
To catch the awful news
Twenty hundred thousand
Have the same thing as you

Don't you know the end is near
You try to take it calm
People crying all around
Queueing up into the hall

A priest is asking you
If you'd like to confess
You can't think of anything
Because your mind's a mess

When you see your loved ones
With angels flying in the room
Lightning flashes in your eyes
The end is coming soon.

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Jesse Zerlaut April 11, 2017 at 2:54 PM A scary feeling, no doubt, for someone suffering the same fate as many others. Especially if you've seen it's effects on those prior to your own. For that reason Cancer scares me badly, lost far to many people to it. Great poem, John. John Bertin April 15, 2017 at 3:05 PM Thank you so much. The poem about losing people to cancer and lupus and drug overdoses or pandemics like AIDS or Ebola. Some of the detail recalls my own hospital experiences, like the death of my father.