Justine Knolle
Mother Nurse
I look after the weak, the meak,
The meager, the eager.
The lean, the mean,
The frail and the pale.
The ill, and the sick.
The ones who need a walking stick,
To get from A to B.
The ones who need strong glasses,
As they can barely see.
The ones who wear a hearing aid,
And whose doctor bills
Can barely be paid.
And who am I, but a dispensing nurse?
Preparing them gently for their graves,
For their hearse.
With my sensible shoes,
And Nightingale cap,
I lay them down
For their afternoon nap.
Making them tea, and hot cocoa to sip.
Those with arthritis, and a replaced hip.
Elderly ladies, and gentlemen too.
Patiently waiting, in an orderly queue.
For their turn for peace,
And their final breath.
The end of their Life.
The beginning of Death.
Tuesday 4 July 2006
© Justine Knowles, 2006
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Justine Knolle.
Published on e-Stories.org on 04.07.2006.
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