Their ashen faces
Their ashen faces Their ashen faces in the waiting rooms This injured army of the ill As they make their weary way On their path to Calvary. Once entered, no healthy exit now, For patients eking out a few months more A constant round to doctors rooms Taking tickets to be seen again A life of pills and potions Of procedures big and small Trudging on a treadmill slowly Tired eyes turned downwards only. Grey lives lived in the shadows Quietly spent in obedient queues A world of bandages and care Walkers, strollers and wheelchairs. Loyal wives guide their spouses Negotiate the complex system Take note of dates of different doctors File new prescriptions in old handbags. He left the tent in blizzard snow Captain Oates he had to know He would never see the tent again He had no wife to guide him home.