She laid sick in her bed
Sometimes motionless as if she were dead,
She hates being there confined
That is not how her life is defined.
She is more than just a stunner
She is indeed a runner,
No food or help does she seek
She has had no appetite for a week.
Into life and adventure, she once sprang
She, of course, is the wild mustang,
She is not known as a quitter or a setter
Her fight she will win and she will get better.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Though she is strong yet flu is making her weak as no food no appetite for a week. Touchingly narrated. Beautiful poem on sick.
Even the strong and trained are weakened by sickness. Thank you for reading my poem. Randy