High Temperature Poem by C Richard Miles

When fever fades and dissipates
Itself into an echo of a headache
That gently drifts, a fickle fog,
Across the sleep-befuddled brain,
There is an in-between world
Of half-wakefulness that wafts,
Wraith-like in the consciousness.
A wave of dim euphoria evolves
And courses, oh so softly, slow
Through the vacillating veins
And half-awakening arteries
And non-responsive nerves
That can not dare decide upon
Some fond return to restless sleep
Or semi-stirred awakening
From vivid viral dreams.