The cold slithers and coils invisibly across the floor
Snow in communion blankets in tonal patina the window frame.
It is upon this morn, that with a jagged fang sciatica strikes
Thus completing an unholy triumpherate on a dark winters morn.
As I try to rise, the jollity of the enemy is audible
Through my solitary painful cries and incomprehension.
They employ a conjurors trick too quickly to be seen by naked eye
They pitch me facedown on the deck!
Imitating my cold enemy I slither to the telephone realising
That my wooden boards need sweeping!
The signal is up! My cousin joins the fray on my side.
On a two stroke Iron Steed she arrives with allies in tiny boxes
The fight back begins with the help of Tigers and their magic balms
Coda-mol roars in Lion defiance and strikes the pain where it, hurts!
A Victorian Nightingale in red, a hot water bottle, plays an effective part!
For three days and nights the battle rages until the fourth!
This battle ends on this dark winters morn
With freer movement, and the ability to dress myself properly!
The joy! When after three days of weary painful throes
I reach down finally, and pulling socks on, cover my toes.
Syre Byrd January 2021
As I read this, I was immediately back in that situation! The memories came thick and fast. The feelings, emotions, pain...all too vivid in my mind. Yet that simple action of putting on socks....what a joy that really was on the fourth day. I hope you enjoy the work. Lastly, a big shout out to Karen my cousin! :-)
Oh my goodness. Having suffered several times the agony of my back going out (for a walk? on a date?), I could relate to this one!