Hear the man sing and be merry
In his younger day.
Listen to the yarn,
He becomes excited as he is asked to replay.
The silent voices, with past thoughts
Stare longingly and await their fate,
Sitting like bookends with occasional cough.
The excitement of youth becomes filters; to a haze
Ill health, a weakness in strength,
Seem a feature of these days...
'Do-gooders' try to get them to play silly games.
They call it therapy...
A trolley is rolled, with dark curtains to one side,
Another has past away, another release...
The waiting, the queue and the maybe,
Ten, fifteen years of life to do.
Today a reality, tomorrow a dream.
Or the dream today and tomorrow...
The light of reality...
Confusing; where is the history?
The bible, the security, pray, simplicity...
The mealtimes are all of, the highlight of the day.
In his younger day.
Listen to the yarn,
He becomes excited as he is asked to replay.
The silent voices, with past thoughts
Stare longingly and await their fate,
Sitting like bookends with occasional cough.
The excitement of youth becomes filters; to a haze
Ill health, a weakness in strength,
Seem a feature of these days...
'Do-gooders' try to get them to play silly games.
They call it therapy...
A trolley is rolled, with dark curtains to one side,
Another has past away, another release...
The waiting, the queue and the maybe,
Ten, fifteen years of life to do.
Today a reality, tomorrow a dream.
Or the dream today and tomorrow...
The light of reality...
Confusing; where is the history?
The bible, the security, pray, simplicity...
The mealtimes are all of, the highlight of the day.
Author: Nigel G Wilcox 07/05/89
The Resident
Chapter One
No.12
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