His Hands Can Mend This

A fever brings another chill
My stomach turns another corner
Again, my bowls quake
Can you hear the low rumble?
My breath moves to a shallow rhythm
As the bile in my esophagus rises
There is a pressure in my head
It comes and goes with the passing
Of other sensations, such as this
The feeling I might soon puke
I shiver in my chair wishing
Pleading with life to take me
To a place different than this
To my bed, when you are there
To your arms, when you feel fine
To home, which we know is you
To where I am comfortable
To where I am safe and free
Even if I try to not show
The truth behind these ill lines
When in the presence of her
The one I'd rather care for
Even though I greatly appreciate
Being sweetly cared for by him
Those hands of soft strength
Wrapped tightly around me
Bringing peace and happiness
To warm my ailing belly