It’s a hateful love.
As I see them head over, prepared to be bored and depressed.But it’s not hate to her, it’s hate for her condition.Despite the sighs and groans,We are caring and praying for salvation.

We wish to return her energy,
Give her a skateboard, a boom box, rocket boots to blast through sunny streets and laugh as the wind frazzles her silver twizzles.

Alas they sigh, but I never will.
I still remember being in wonderland.
Every meal a banquet.
From hand labelled tins of sweetness
Which have made 1950s adverts just as nostalgic to me.

Get off the ice floe,
Your blanket and water bottle are ready,
As I give one more hug.