Sick-Bed Poem by Gert Strydom

My head throbs from a headache
and the flu gnaws
burning at my throat,
but the blue of the air
seeps friendly in through my room’s window.

Outside at the Tuscan mural
and the small bubbling fountain,
sparrows are washing,
splashing and chirping.

The garden’s odours vapours
through my blocked nose
and lavender and rosemary
lies snugly against me.

While illness bring my day to an end,
outside the day carries on
and the tranquillity
comes in from outside and surrounds me.