Triumphal Old Couch on a Grey Morning

You lose the doctors focused
On your recovery, on
Their potential victory—

You gain the nurses caring
Mostly for your comfort,
But unsure how to get there.

You may spend a grey morning
Wrapped in extra shawls and scarves,
Watching the fire someone built for you,

Hoping mainly for comfort,
Which by now hardly differs
All that much from victory,

But considering the cat
Of the host who naps. Triumph.