I’ve been lying here for hours,
It’s like my life has gone on hold.
The heating isn’t working
And I’m really deathly cold.
There isn’t much of anything,
No pictures on the wall,
No games to play, no bowls of fruit,
A room that’s much too small.
They slide me in and slide me out,
And all I’ve got’s a sheet.
They covered up my head,
But then forgot about my feet.
The service here is terrible,
I haven’t got a bell,
And the other people in the ward,
Really don’t look well.
I told a nurse I couldn’t sleep
And asked her for a pill.
She turned so white, I got a fright.
I wonder if she’s ill?
© Copyright Philip Barton, 2010. All rights reserved
