And I turn as soon as the door closes,
Waiting for the sound of the lock
Fitting into its latch and hold,
Or the wood of the first step cracking
Under the weight of his foot,
I used to have a cough as a warning too,
But he breathes too clearly for that,
It is good to see him walking now,
His self-infection gone
And his autoimmunity reduced,
I listen to his joints cracking too,
While he walks across the ground floor.