Apologies for jumping, but it has been suggested that I should offer some explanation of the poem's layout.

The first 2 and final 2 lines are 'me' speaking. The remainder of the poem is my attempt at putting on to paper, my late wife's 35 year battle with MS, and the way she saw life, but from her point of view.

 

The Sun Shone

 

The sun shone,

                                                And she was mine.

 

I once had a life,

filled with expectation,

that now is changed

to fitful agitation.          

 

My eyes flash and flicker.         

The world is out of focus,

spinning out of control,  

and I am defenceless.               

 

When did this start?

Where will it end?

How far will I fall?

Will I break, will I bend?

 

Life is a barrage

of misdirected signals,

transmission gone awry.

Life is paroxysmal.

 

Power - ebbs;              

Lightning - strikes;

Fuses - blow;

Panic - spikes.

 

Acid - corrosive,

dripping, stripping,         

slowly devouring,

wholly consuming.                    

  

Lungs - bursting.

Mind - blowing.

Stomach - churning.

Nerves - tingling.

 

I choke on my words,

and all things sustaining,

yet scrap, for every bite

and breath remaining.

 

I will not be defined

by my condition.

My life is more

than this earthly perdition.

 

Rage is pointless,

solving nothing.

Fury is blinding,

and self-defeating.

 

There is much yet to do,

no time for self-pity.

My passion for life

will last for eternity.

 

And the sun set,

                                                For she was gone.