I was dowm with jaundice when i was in the ninth grade and even then i could not be without clutching my pen!

The search of the sick!

As the misty evening turned into a starlit night,

I sat with the very pale face as in the morning,

The lush of fever made the very sweetest breeze,

chill and rattle my weak bones.

I sat there, sighing a deep breath,

Through my window i could see the lovely moon,

Wavering midst the stars,

Sure enough the clouds were hovering above him.

I asked him if he was ill too,

But he only hid himself behind the fluffy clouds.

I could see the children play,

Their laughter, a crackle of happiness,

It was only me, the sick girl with red cheeks,

The chosen one to get ill..

But now the sights delighted me,

And i was now fast asleep, with the sweeteast dreams. . .