Sonnet

As long as the disease lasts.
He must live apart.
Wither our paths.
Where can we start.

Do we live with disease.
Or eradicate all risk.
Can we appreciate that we never will be totally at ease.
Only change is brisk.

I dreamt that my mother was waiting at the door.
Full of joy, I hurried forward.
Desperate for the dream to last more.
But to my sadness I woke up, from her I could hear no more word.

We resent all interruptions and the end.
But that is our fate and when we start to mend.

Haiku

Resent interruption
That is our fate’s vocation
Then we start to mend