Hot water bottle
Painkiller odour flows through my veins.
Hands are shaking; head is aching.
Yet the sun is shinning and the wind is still,
And meadows am I contemplating.
Pavane whispers sun to me;
Warm body and light day.
But belly is churning and arms are shivering
And legs are weak like soft clay.
Children leave doors open;
A favour they think, but I hate it;
I’m cold and tired and bored
And feel like… air..