Nuclear Summer

A marathon has been run.
Days, weeks, many many miles.
Combat has been done.
Bones tired and piled.

The masked was strapped on and on.
33 days in the nuclear sun.
Lasers and poisons my savior or Armageddon.
This bald head signs of things to come.

Weeks spent away from work and family.
Worst case scenarios questioned.
Best outcomes planned for and met.
All memories to not forget.

The new challenge now ahead.
What will the MRIs discover.
Measuring the cell death of tumor.
Enough to extend life further.

Will I have a year or decades.
More time for my family to grow.
Will I lose track of time and let it flow.
How much time, no one knows.

I did my best.
Now time will be the test.
One day at a time.
Like all the rest.