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..

20th August, 2000

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