A sad a true story about my thoughts and memmories of a best friend who died young.

A poem about having a terminal illness at a young age.

The following poem is from a collection of 41 written by me to try describing Huntington’s Disease (HD).

At the time of submitting this poem (Nov 2009) I have some paperwork to look at. It’s an application for consideration for “Extra Care Sheltered Housing”.

Basically it’s the equivalent of a retirement home with a warden and carers. Sounds great but the normal criteria is you have to be aged over 60 and that will be the age of the average residents. Because of our circumstances, people think we might be better placed there. We are both 48.

Crying for the dead.