Thought in the night

The wind was terrible, raced around the outside like
Drunken dervishes hollering in the night
When the wind tired of this needless validating
Of its masculinity it became quiet.
Now my thoughts and worries took over
Often idle should I have put the chicken soup in
The fridge or leave it out; this morning it was
Off I blame the wind.
Of course, the soup was a ruse to stop me thinking
About what worried me like my declining health
Nerve-pain makes it challenging to walk yet I struggle
Walk 45 minutes a day it is suitable for diabetes
As my doctor says and reluctantly, I must agree
But I am still annoyed with her insistence about
The ****** pills.
All this is a prelude my thoughts go to my death
Not that I mind not living anymore, will it be painful
Struggling to breathe, or will my death be a friend
Switching off the light of life while sleeping; but this
Brings on another problem I will not feel it coming
Why should I write about it anyway?
I get up, write a poem about a friend who is alone
At the hospital and the nurse's sleep.