A Sickness to Bear

Wet,white droplets douse my hair,
my arms tremble,too sick to care.
Thunders and rain,sounds here tonight.
I wait in my bed to some renewed light.

My hands sag,as if weeping all day,
my bones ache as I lay here in May.
Pretty flowers,waiting for a soft touch.
I want breeze,birds,air;I don't ask for much.

Mother told me not to fear.
She helps me wipe away tears.
A beautiful mist lays beyond my doors.
Inside,I'm captured;reading all day is a bore!

What makes me tremble the most,
is I may be a spiritual host.
An evil spirit awaits beyond any hope,
clings onto me like sticky,dry soap.

A sickness to bear for a week.
No trouble I yet to seek.
Just lying in bed;music of rain in my ears.
Loud,booming thunder strikes,I would hear.