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. 

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