The Chemo Room
The smell of disinfectant, the swoosh of rubber soles,
The whispered orders heard by all,
Pierce through the harried soul.
The whispered orders heard by all,
Pierce through the harried soul.
A chemo needle buries deep and bruises fragile skin.
The color pales, the cold creeps in
And sleep’s the hope today.
Or maybe, Just to run away.
Her eyes blink open at the sounds but close as interest fades.
Harsh images unknown before
Are now in her domain.
Golden sunshine works to lift the heart,
to gentle certain thoughts.
But time stands still, unmoved, inert
Time swiftly passes by.
At last. It’s over.
Not so bad.
Rare hours left to savor.
And she’ll be back tomorrow, If her spirit doesn’t waver.
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