Fever

My eyes open
To fire
Stark light
Against dark canvas
Terrible pain
That dwells within my throat
My only solace-
The smell of soup
Made with love by mother
Accompanied by gentle coos
Of my lullaby
The delicate, cool touch against my face
These things I cling to now
Between my coughs
I beg her not to go
Swiftly it leaves
It leaves as quickly as it arrived
Phantom soup, ghostly touch, her lingering song
Those things had eased my pain