Some musings

I knew a man of modest means,

Content to love his wife, his teens,

Who, ever hopeful, made the best

Of years constrained by heaving chest.

.

Till came the night for want of air,

His ceiling scored with ‘ward based care’,

Compelled by some he bore the cost,

His battle fought, his battle lost.

.

You smug-faced crowds who gather still

With scant regard for those who’re ill,

Stay home and pray you’ll never know

That hell where all too many go

.

[After Siegfried Sassoon]

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To read ‘If’, click here

To read ‘patient’, click here

To read ‘crushed’, click here

To read ‘masked’, click here

To read ‘resting in pieces’, click here