Mother I am going to see Father, I shall visit him on the way to class
I’ll set off very early and by his crop fields I shall pass.
I have put the sandwich in my satchel, so he can have a bite to eat;
And perhaps a moment to just sit down and rest his aching feet.
My hands are shaking terribly today, my goodness how my head does swim;
My skin is burning under my touch and my heart is palpitating within
Perhaps I should take a moment; yes I think that I shall have to pause
Why do I feel so terrible? What could possibly be the cause?
At last, I can see my Father, but why does he look so ill?
His face is so off colour and he is standing far too still
Here are your sandwiches Father, come now please will you just sit here;
On this bale of hay for a moment, oh what troubles you Father dear?
Why does my shirt feel so tight? I cannot catch my breath;
My head is aching horribly, quite frankly I feel like death
I think I should stand up, I will be scolded if I sit a moment more
My legs buckle from under me, as my body sinks to the floor.
©Sophie Bowns 2011-2014