Where would I be with out you
your nightingales cry
softening my own
upon a bitter livid darkening day.

In your white sheets
I sail this choking sea
where from
my eyes rise up
and you are there
tired breathless yourself
on those busy wards.

And at home how do you
relax from the eyes pleading for
more oxygen, more breath.

And from those
seemed like, too many times
you tried to be there
but you came back
to only no breath
and vacant glazed eyes.

You who burn the
candle at both ends
to save us

My mother, my father,
my daughter, my son,
you saved
and there are not enough
flowers in the world
we would give you.

You are the measure of humanity
we can not match
the precious golden few
who go on saving us.
day by aching day.

Until when there’s made
a small garden with a pool
in a sunny place
where we come by
one by one
to thank you
on a high hill
with a green fountain
warm
and cloudless
for you few.

CJB Jan 2021