My sick bed

All my loved ones around me pacifying.
'Papa! you will be all right now,
Mamma spoke to the doctor
and he said nothing wrong with you
reports show everything normal'.
Adjoining bed in whispers,
the person who warded in the morning
ready to say good bye to all.
I feel that I am taking his last exhaled breath.
Doctors never diagnose my sickness.
The stethoscope reads only my heart beat
and never count my inner feelings.
'I am sick since my childhood'
I said to the doctor.
'No you are very healthy'
Then I said ' That's my sickness what I feel doctor'.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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