THE QUIET ROOM
A very sad time; a loved one lies ill,
Carry on as normal; there’s time to kill.
Drop everything at once; the hospital called;
Arrive in a panic; locate the ward.
At reception desk, talk to a nurse;
Prepare yourself, to hear the worst.
Led to a side room; a quiet place;
Tears wash down your saddened face.
Round your shoulder drapes a comforting arm;
At least now, they’ll come to no more harm.
Stare at the pictures in opened locket;
Wipe reddened eyes, with tissue from pocket.
Beneath the photo, a lock of hair;
You slump back, into hospital chair.
Hot drink supplied, to calm your nerve;
Racing heart has little, in reserve.
Gradually accept the final closure;
Dry eyes and blow nose; regain composure.
Nothing more to be done here; must get back home;
Family to tell; authorities to phone.
Time is a great healer, or so they say;
But it’ll never erase the events of today !
© Jim Bell
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