A sonnet about grief anticipated,
of loss about to show its ugly face:
my dear wife Janet has not long to live;
her cancer seems its treatment to outpace.
Mutations come and go, a new one yet
may show in recent liver biopsy,
till then we wait and see, and pray and hope
that Osimertinib, will be prescribed.
It only staves off the inevitable,
the cancer will, for sure, result in death
and separation from the one I love.
How I shall miss you, dearest one, my love:
You are my strength, my hope, my joy,
you’re everything I ever wanted, oh my love.