Cherilyn Fry Poet I do not know?

Wee Small Hours

was feelin too sick to write poetry
every breath taken
was another nail in my coffin
with shades of self pity
hanging over my shoulders like a long lost friend

this cold still goes on forever
robbing me of vitality, smell, and sacred and much adored sleep
as coughing fits
like grand mal seziures
keep me enraptured in their tendrells

never mind
these wee hours of the early early mornin
say 1.14 am
allow me to think about things long forgotten
like how my loved one called me "toquie"
and how much I loved that name....and all the warm cozy feelings
the little girl inside of me now misses these feelings

I get to think about my goals and aspirations
of the art show I again want to put on in a small
coffee shop on THE DRIVE

But, most of all, this cold has given me a gift of realizing
how imporant one's health is...
in order to fully love oneself...
and you.

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Carolyn Devonshire February 21, 2009 at 6:23 PM Cherilyn, What a striking image is created when you say "Every breath taken was another nail in my coffin." I'm sure you're feeling better now. (How nice to meet someone whose first name rhymes with mine!) I like your writing style! Carolyn

Carrie Richards January 27, 2009 at 8:16 AM Hope you are feeling much better....but as this poem says...sometimes it gives us time to reflect and appreciate good health, and time to just vegg and think about things. Take care...Carrie

Lawrence Ingle January 27, 2009 at 1:38 AM Hey Toquie, I hope you get to feeling better. I just got over mine a few weeks back. I couldn't sleep for all the coughing. I felt like my head was gonna pop off everytime I went into a coughing spell. My back and chest would hurt so bad, that sometimes I thought I'd be better off dead, that's how bad I felt. The only antibiotic that seemed to help was Amoxicillin, and it only helped a little. I want to think that the vitamin C I kept taking after all else failed, finally helped? Lawrence