I see it: the way the pain drains you.
You say it with the slightly-labored breathing
And the careful, painstaking way you move.
You say it when a grin shifts into a grimace
And in your reluctance to make many movements.
I love you: saying this with a cup of cold water
And many prayers which you will never hear.
How I wish you could have a restful rest,
Without the flaming, aching joints and muscles
Which are giving a relentless test.