Thank You Sam

These are my days of stress
Of schedules and deadlines
Commitments buzzard overhead
Waiting for those bloody bits
Of flesh that fall-off as I scrape
Myself across demandments
That never seem to end.

Then a note to me
From your friend
Telling me of
Your two month’s sleep.

What little is left, he said
Of that devil’s thing
In your head
Is now benign,
Yet you sleep still.You woke once
– blind –
And slept again.You awoke again
For a time too brief
Yet you could see
Your family,
(and I was glad.)

And your friend
Who wrote me asked
What you would say to me.
You told him to tell me,

“Take care.”

These may be my days of stress
Days of blood and muscle exposed, yet
To hear two words of regard for me,
From one who living on the edge
Of a final fatal chasm for many months,
Who now sleeps the deepest sleep,
Of forever or a minute more
(who knows?)

And for whom life had dealt
The cruelest joke on vivacity
And youthful spirit.
Found time in her brief waking
To give me her concern.

Nothing, not even
My picked at and exposed bones,
Could bother me anymore today.

Thank you sam.


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