When sickness strikes, it dominates
And all involved it subjugates
To worries, sleepless nights, and pain
And “When will they get well again?”
The only topic this refrain, ’til it abates.
When sickness will not go away,
And claims its place in every day
The only thing left to be done
Is play the hand as dealt, and run
No clouds can fully block the sun when it is day.
When sickness stays, it has to learn
That other things will take their turn
In centre stage, the sickness deemed
Old news, and coping is routine
One stops regretting might-have-beens, and bridges burned.
Form: Florette (verson 2)
Prompt: Write a companion piece to an earlier poem
Original poem: Freedom, Ltd.