Poem #16: Just Sitting Upstairs

.
.
.
I'm just sitting upstairs
and waiting for her voice.
More water, or help moving
from bed to couch, couch to bed.
In the morning, I help sort her pills,
put her socks on,
check the calendar for the next
doctor appointment.
In the evening, I turn on
the oxygen machine,
help her with the tube,
then I go to bed.
I am struggling
to find the poetry in this,
though I know it 's there somewhere.
.
.
.