Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Poetic Asides Error

By a Thread

“I told you I was sick,” you said.
I told you to have your bp read.

You could be dead
Instead, part of your brain died in your head.

Now you can’t get out of bed
without help. We know not what’s ahead.

You must take your med
so the illness doesn’t spread.

I’ll see that you’re fed.
I love you since we wed.

Nearly forty years ago. No dread.
We trust the one whose blood was shed.

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