Lyme

Paisley floats in red violet fog
The haze will dim with rain 
The clock is louder than before 
Smells are stronger, days are longer
He longs for sleep-an endless sleep 
That lasts until this nightmare ends
When he wakes, he feels much better 
At least, for two priceless hours 
My friend has felt such pain these days 
But quit complaining months ago
Complying now with fate's sharp blows
Hanging on to fleeting hope
Fighting because we want him back 
Our bottomless pit of love for him
Holds on and begs for his strength 
To mend his tired body 
Confused mind-still sharp but asking, "Why?" The scientist at work again 
"How" to help the ones like him-ignored, weak, pushed aside for the sake of greed
The saint I love will find a way
He always does-he's good that way.
Rest in peace,  my friend. 

Ambient blues rock