The hospital loomed into view
I remembered when I drove with you
On a wintry day in panic mode
Petrified on icy road.
A blood transfusion; I stood by
Too numb to speak, to feel, to cry
The staff were calm but I could tell
That you, my love, were far from well.
You could not leave; I brought your case
How few things you had at this place:
Pyjamas, aftershave and soap
A book, your watch and bags of hope.
The week dragged on – each time I came
You tried your best to play the game
But as the doctor had foretold
Your lifeline wavered; would not hold.
Ten years on, now I am here
Under another consultant’s care
What is this mist before my eyes -
That shimmers like a late sunrise?
The corridor is stark and white
I muse upon my present plight
Listening to my inner voice
And wonder what will be my choice.
My windows to the soul grow old
What diagnosis will unfold?
A brief eye test with pinpoint beam
In silence – what does it all mean?
The diagnosis is benign
The eye ball alters over time.
Unlike you, my love, I learn
All’s well and I need not return.
Perhaps it’s only now I feel
Your apprehension deep and real
Which you’d so carefully hid from view
That it’s only now come trickling through...
(Written September 2013)
(c) Poet in the woods 2014