Patient Poem by Joe Bisicchia
Patient
Window would see
world
if eyes weren't stuck
bedside.
I'm stopped incapacitated,
yet
the aforementioned world
runs.
When I was young
I would show my face.
I used to dress myself
and go where I wanted.
But now,
with dull wall
and nurse down the hall,
I stretch out my hand
and wait.
Published in The Poet's Haven,2016
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: healing
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5/1/2024 7:01:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
