i reappear from my illness,

with small hope and no home,

just four walls and a bed of my own,

motherless, with an inch left of soul.

my eyes are recovering gray,

miles away from the dark,

where i stood almost all of my life,

only time could replace this heart.

i am grateful for the days i can count,

forgive me for the ones that i can't,

but still, if you stood next to me,

i would still reach for your hand.