The Quill and Self-will

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