Cooped up with bad back,
some freedom I do lack.
Careful is what I must be.
That's what 'she' says; you see?
I'm not allowed from house.
I'm 'kept in cage' like mouse.
She does it for my good.
It won't last long.... Knock wood!
I take care of myself,
can get food off the shelf,
can use bathroom just fine,
can pour myself some wine.
But no more outdoor walks;
at that my wife still balks.
So if I've too long sat,
I pace like Puma cat.
this situation don't seem it'll last..at least you're not put out to grass
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nothing like a bad dose of cabin fever. I'd be pacing like a puma cat if I was confined to the house. That's if one could pace...if it were because of a mobility, weather, or sickness situation. Looking out the window is worse.