Will a day come
Will a day come
When I am read to by a stranger
Head tilted forward
Jaw hanging open
Spittle forming a silvery path
Down onto manmade fibre
Barely conscious of a change
In the temperature as the day slips away
Being force-fed tea from a plastic cup
With a lid
A beaker you would use as a kid,
When spitting it out
Is seen as non-compliance
Even as the truth is
I might be an Englishman but I don’t like tea
The birds would never mind the tableaux
Sparrows slipping in and out of chair legs
Playing tag
Rummaging between the folds of a car rug
For the crumbs left behind by a too dry muffin
That would have been forcefully pushed away
In a brief upsurge of anger
A florid display is what you may say
When a wheelchair is turned
From the sunset
To face a red brick wall
Which would be as tired as me
In sad, sad need of repair
I quite like the sun in my eyes
As a little discomfort
Is still some kind of proof of life
I can imagine the fuss the underpaid staff
Would make
Over the little old lady with the big ‘baby blues’
And a sad smile
Who called the women ‘my dear’
And the male nurses her little ‘sweethearts’
She would always have a choice of dessert
Whilst I was left a plate of dry biscuits
I shudder at the thought
Of bed baths, personal care
The inevitable exposure of my
Aversion to intimate contact
Minimal restraint
Tear stained collars
On shirts, I would never choose to wear
In beige or navy blue
With a breast pocket for keeping my specs
Covered in fingerprints and jam
I don’t like jam
As the young volunteer
Reads out loud from Jeffrey Deever
Robert Patterson
Or some other airport clown
The matron believes is a suitable author
For the residents
Nothing too risque or literary
Stephen King is too scary
Just page-turners which is the least to expect
Will it happen to me?
Perhaps one day it just might
But not just yet
Nor anytime soon
If I can just keep myself one step
Ahead of the disapproving looks
Of old Father time
Wielding an Alzheimer’s assessment tool
As a cattle prod
You may say that I’m old
But please, not to my face
As I would say
I am still in my prime.