STARING AT ...

Staring at the ceiling,

Devoid of pain or feeling.

Wondering as I tilt my eyes -

Will heaven ever sympathise?

Staring at the wall,

Its blank whiteness says it all.

Not a shadow or a sound, 

Just old familiar ground.

Staring at the floor,

Ants crawling I habitually ignore.

Their blood, sweat and tears,

Recklessly trampled over the years.

Staring at of the window,

Waiting for the next blow.

Yet, any illness or disappointment

Won’t deny this golden moment.