HOSPITAL DAYS - 1
The morning light is a different colour
And the air is different too.
People here are mostly old
And not as able bodied.
It was daunting at first
To be asked by a nurse if I needed
A walking aid! I feel as though
I might dissolve into this soup
And become the newest
Common denominator to be
Fed, watered, weighed, drugged
And/or whatever comes next.
It is not a holiday. Life isn't either.
I keep telling myself that
Over and over again....
Usually just before I nod off
To sleep again... where I can
Speak with some strange and
Wonderful travel companions
In Hypnagogia's la la land.
© Griffonner 2023
Poetry by Griffonner
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Written on 2023-12-01 at 16:32
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