Writing away

Further to this morning’s post, I’ve stuck to my self-appointed task of writing where and whenever I can – even under conditions of extreme emotional strain:


She’s in there now,
Alone. Unsmiling men
Are probing, looking in places
I don’t want to think about
Much less go.

I dread the moment
The door swings open
And they troop out
With their pronouncement;
All might be well

Or we may be embarking
On a long road
Of trials, treatment
Mounting expense
And pain:

My world could turn
On a single phrase;
For now
All thought
Is in suspension.

I need her,
Want her
Healthy and whole,
Hate to think that she suffers
Some invisible hurt.

So I sit here
In my own little agony
We’ll be going home together.

[Let me reassure my readers that the waiting room in question wasn’t in a hospital, but my local Renault garage. And the car was fine.]

4 thoughts on “Writing away

  1. So, my heart was going out for you whilst reading this poem..there was I thinking it was about one of your loved ones – either human or animal….and then you reveal it was about your car!! Fantastic!!! Really well written. Chloe 😀

    • Thank you! As a bike person through-and-through, I don’t really love my car – in fact, I’d much rather not have it at all – but unfortunately it’s a necessary evil. My anguish was entirely at the thought of possibly having to spend money on it! Glad you liked the poem.

    • My goodness Ina, you have been digging deep in the archives! Glad you enjoyed the poem: amazingly, the car in question is still going. Bits are starting to fall off it now (hey, it’s a Renault) but it’ll be a couple of years before we can afford to replace her!

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