Delicate Petals

Daisy French

Her face is wan, pinched and drawn. Her eyes are void, empty and lost. Another yawn, but the headache's gone. And now she'll count the cost.

How long before another one? Little or no time to recuperate, To grow strong, retaliate or run. She won't have long to wait.

Washed out, frail, stressed and frustrated, She ponders about the world and life Why, she asks, was I created, if life is nothing more than strife?

How can she piece her life together? Glass always shatters the moment she touches No matter how careful, or how clever, Normality escapes her clutches.

Aspirations are not for her. Career paths, achievements, holidays and events We take for granted what she must defer. Employment and family don't make sense.

Her life is dark, governed by pain. Time is infinite when you are feigning brave with no relief, pleasures to abstain. Migraine has yet another slave.

I know her pain, a family trait, But her's is worse, destroying her will. I worry about her psychological state, quite apart from her physical ill.

Too little is known of the monster Migraine And doctors failed and are failing still to listen as we endeavour to complain. You'll be fine, they say. Take another pill.

Well she wasn't fine. Nor is she now. Pills and remedies, therapies galore have had little effect, but most endow disappointment; closure of another door.

So I watch and hope that new research will unveil secrets, destroy Migraine's hold. For millions deserve their rainbow perch; A future, life and dreams untold. (continued)

It won't be long...I see the look. Her face is ashen, her walk unsteady. He doesn't need an appointment book, He strikes when his victim is least ready.

Her pain is my sorrow, for I understand and cry for her, hoping her life will settle, All I can do is give my heart and my hand to my wonderful daughter; my delicate petal.


Next: Enough!