Well Soon.

Staring out my window,
Brown brick wall in front of me,
Coffee almost empty.
The first cup I've had in days.

Lungs are still tired,
Body is still aching,
But recovering.
I feel Summer on her way through my window.

My cats chatter to me, as if we are having intellectual conversation,
So I respond in French,
To practice.

This illness couldn't have come at a worse time.
I leave for NY on Sunday afternoon,
I have off work Monday - Wednesday next week,
And have missed Tuesday-Thursday this week.

I beg my body to heal,
But surely everything happens for a reason.
I acknowledge the illness,
And cater to my sick needs.

Sun peeks through my window,
Taunting me to come play,
Oh how I wish I was well enough to dance in her rays,
Soon.
I can only hope,
Soon.