At first I thought the atmosphere might press down on my heart,
Revealing truths and selflessness, which sets us all apart
The volunteer who cares for free
And shines a naked light on me,
The flashy loud hypocrisy
Like skin I’ll never mend.
Polished floors and tea trolleys,
Pink striped biscuits, morphine lollies
A mixture of hope and loss
All wrapped up in a kind inevitablilty
Like Lucozade cellophane
And the pretty nurse is crying again
The charity ball
The dreaded call,
The things I know are coming
The streets seem narrow
My breathing shallow
And there’s a song I can’t stop humming
Soft warm pain
Summer Lane,
The slow regret of grieving
The empty bed
I’ve heard it said…….the pretty nurse is leaving.