There was a time when being ill

as a child was no fun at all,

shut up inside your room,

the curtains drawn, snapped shut,

the 1970s flowered patterns

almost falling off with a startled,

frightened look upon their stems

and a quiver of desperation as they shook

themselves to the floor.

 

The woe betide stare of,

“If I catch you peeking out through

the now flowerless curtains,

then there will be no soup, just dry,

throat grating, pain inducing, rasping,