I knew a man

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]


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

Published by peteraird134510580

Nothing particularly interesting to say other than I'm a GP with an interest in emotional well-being, an avid Somerset County Cricket Club supporter and a poor example of a Christian who likes to put finger to keyboard from time to time and who is foolish enough to think that someone out there may be interested enough to read what I've written. Some of these blogs have grown over time and some portions of earlier blogs reappear in slightly different forms in later blogs. Apologies for the repetition. What I have posted today (6th August 2018) consists of what I have written over the last few years - whether I write anything ever again, only time will tell.

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