Thoughe In the Night

Thought in the night The wind was terrible, raced around the outside like Drunken dervishes hollering in the night When the wind tired of this needless validating Of its masculinity it became quiet. Now my thoughts and worries took over Often idle should I have put the chicken soup in The fridge or leave it out; this morning it was Off I blame the wind. Of course, the soup was a ruse to stop me thinking About what worried me like my declining health Nerve-pain makes it challenging to walk yet I struggle Walk 45 minutes a day it is suitable for diabetes As my doctor says and reluctantly, I must agree But I am still annoyed with her insistence about The bloody pills. All this is a prelude my thoughts go to my death Not that I mind not living anymore, will it be painful Struggling to breathe, or will my death be a friend Switching off the light of life while sleeping; but this Brings on another problem I will not feel I coming Why should I write about it anyway? I get up, write a poem about a friend who is alone At the hospital and the nurse's sleep.