In peace of slumber I remain
But suddenly — a wince of pain —
As if a scimitar had stabbed
Precisely where the tendon grabbed;
Or welding torch a hole had blown
Through muscle, sinew, nerve and bone.
From bed I bolt with howling sound;
The only cure? To walk around.
The leg needs weight and pressure put
Below the knee, above the foot.
The seconds pass — the crisis waits —
Excruciating pain abates.
The leg? Content, a nap can take;
But me? I’m fully wide awake.