Tired eyes slowly open
The room is blurrily sloping
My lips are numb and dry
And I cannot see the sky
Three weeks I’ve been here
While my body is in recovery
Nurses say I’ll soon be out of this wheelchair
And I’ll be home with community health care
How will I cope I despair
My arm is idle and I cannot weight bear
And my speech is impaired
With a memory drifting in mid-air
I am unable to read or write
And daytime may as well be midnight
Three months have passed by
I am doing a morning crossword and my smile begins to cry
But there is a knowing sparkle in my eye
Upon my notepad I’ve scrawled lines of rhyme awry
Ivor Steven (c) Nov 2020


