Dull grey cabinets, posters on the wall,
Overalls in grubby white passing through the hall,
Stretcher beds, beige, blue, seating for a few,
The white welcome posts do duty all year through.
Awaiting diagnoses, anxious patients call,
Yet information filters slowly, at a crawl.
Patience, a virtue, tried and tested too,
Applies elastic strings to Time, judgements askew.
Through age, illness, accident, Death nets all.
Independence? – truly few retain the wherewithal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem