I'm not aware of my injuries.
I wasn't aware there were flowers.
I was aware of the pretty nurse holding my hand,
and of her perfume and her smile.
She spoke in a language I could understand.
Her kindness amplified by the warm summer's sun.
Soon we were chatting and laughing,
and I began to feel better - even managing a smile.
I see cards from well wishers
a box of chocolates and grapes,
but I can't reach them, so they'll have to wait.
Later, I dreamt I was with her
a glass of wine by a fire.
Even if my legs cannot support my broken body,
I am alive – and that is all I want to know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem