Canto CCCX

The sound my daughter emits as she stirs,
running a fever, unable to sleep,
is close to true sadness as I have heard

without an uttered word. She doesn’t weep,
but shuts her eyes tight and softly moans.
I doubt that anyone will get some kip

under this roof tonight. We’re not alone
in that at least and so I pace the flat,
as some shuffling Zen monk might have done

dwelling on the noble teaching that
all that live are born to suffering,
she slumps on my shoulder, the hour is late

in a week’s time she won’t recall a thing.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Jul 05, 2012 @ 23:54:24

    Childhood fevers quickly pass…try baby calpol it worked a treat on mine.

    Reply

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