Poem from a Sick Bed

Poem from a Sick Bed

Here I sit In a place of misery Poked and prodded Hounded by ghosts In blue and white scrubs. Broken and bent, I should feel Worse than this. But I look into your sweet brown eyes, And feel your tender touch, And I know I have found home ______________ She told me to write a poem while she took a break. So I did.