The Ambulance that Got Away
When Grandpa suffered a turn, we
Called the ambulance, right away,
They strapped him onto a gurney
So he couldn't sit up, or sway,
‘We'll see you up at the hospital, '
We cried, as we waved him well,
The ambulance went with bells and lights
Like a demon bound for hell!
Grandma wasn't at home, we
Had to phone her on the cell,
She couldn't come back just then, she said
She was having a fainting spell,
So we waited until he was settled in
Then drove in a convoy down,
To the hospital at Ullarook,
Just fifty miles from town.
The nurse at the desk said: ‘No-one here
By the name of Alfred Groom,
We only have private patients here,
We bed them, one to a room,
If he hasn't got private cover, then
You'll have to look elsewhere,
Maybe the ambulance took him off
To the hospital at Bulnare.'
We phoned the hospital at Bulnare:
‘He hasn't been seen round here,
There was an ambulance, come to think,
But he left with a flea in his ear!
We don't take patients from out of town
There's few enough beds for us,
He's probably over at Gundacoot,
They run their own private bus.'
We drove ten miles to Gundacoot,
An ambulance sat in the drive,
We thought, ‘Thank God, he must be here!
Let's hope that he's still alive! '
We all raced in through the sliding doors
And crowded around the Nurse:
‘Who? Alfred Groom, in a private room?
Not here! ' We left with a curse!
We split up the convoy into two,
I drove to the nearest town,
A middling place called Jerribee
With a hospital, quite run down,
‘The government cut our funding, '
Said the Nurse in the parking bay,
‘We shut down twenty beds last week,
Your Dad isn't here today.'
My son had travelled the other way
To Inkermine on the coast,
The hospital there had a hundred beds
The locals were wont to boast,
‘He's isn't here, but the ambulance
Was spotted on leaving town, '
My son had sighed on his endless ride
When he called on the mobile phone.
That night when Grandma got her breath
She went to the ambulance place,
She battered him with her umbrella
Knocking his glasses clean off his face:
‘Where did you take him, tell me now
Or I'll have to call the police!
What? Are your ears painted on! '
‘We took him to Bungaleese! '
The only place that would take him was
The Medical Clinic there,
It isn't even a hospital
And you sit on a leather chair,
When we finally got to Bungaleese
Grandpa could barely talk,
We said, ‘We'll get you an ambulance! '
‘No thanks, ' he growled, ‘I'll walk! '
29 August 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Last Words of My English Grandmother
There were some dirty plates
and a glass of milk
beside her on a small table
near the rank, disheveled bed--
Wrinkled and nearly blind
she lay and snored
rousing with anger in her tones
to cry for food,
Gimme something to eat--
They're starving me--
I'm all right--I won't go
to the hospital.No, no, no
Give me something to eat!
Let me take you
to the hospital, I said
and after you are well
you can do as you please.
She smiled, Yes
you do what you please first
then I can do what I please--
Oh, oh, oh! she cried
as the ambulance men lifted
her to the stretcher--
Is this what you call
making me comfortable?
By now her mind was clear--
Oh you think you're smart
you young people,
she said, but I'll tell you
you don't know anything.
Then we started.
On the way
we passed a long row
of elms. She looked at them
awhile out of
the ambulance window and said,
What are all those
fuzzy looking things out there?
Trees?Well, I'm tired
of them and rolled her head away.
poem by William Carlos Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seriously Speaking This Time
well this is what i can say
even without you
asking me,
about poetry?
well, it should not be taken seriously
it is just
poetry anyway
nothing serious like a man dying to get to the hospital
inside an ambulance
if only he hears the sound of that godamn ambulance
oh my
he must have known that it is
joking.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I said, 'See you in the hospital my dear
I said, 'See you in the hospital my dear',
as I watched your mum disappear.
To Dellwood in an ambulance she sped,
'Will it be a girl or a boy', I said.
The telephone rang, 'It's a girl'.
To the hospital I went in a whirl.
Our beautiful Max lay besides her mum.
Little did I know what was to come.
Before your birth I called you Qasimodo.
A great mistake for I wasn't to know.
That eight years later you'd find out
what the name 'Qasi' was all about.
So I promised that I'd pay you 10p
every time that I called you 'little Qasi.'
But it was so difficult for me to quit
and cost a fortune to break the habit
a Real life nightmare
It feels like another life
and had been at another time
and place,
where I knocked and knocked
at the locked bedroom door.
At last I found a key
and still something
was holding it
and I pushed with all my might
and at last it opened.
She was lying on the bed
with outstretched arms
and empty pill bottles
next to her head
and there was no note
to say farewell
and why she did it,
to this day
only she can tell.
She was still breathing
and I felt a weak pulse
and I was without strength
from flu,
but I picked her up
and got her over my shoulder.
The car was too far
and there was nobody
willing to help me
and I stumbled over my weak legs
and got hold of her again
and carried her to the car.
I passed over three red robots
without any car’s being there
and she belched over
my shirt and pants
and just before the state hospital
two metro police cars
started to follow me
with flashing blue lights
and screaming sirens.
I stopped at the ambulance
drop-off point
and was cursed by ambulance men
that was standing there,
and the metro police
rushed to me
took a look at her
and went on their way
and nobody wanted to help.
Anger gave me strength
and I carried her
into the hospital
and went straight through admissions
and followed the red line
to casualties
and somebody
brought a wheelchair
and some doctor
saved her life.
The doctor said that the belching
saved her,
but today I am just glad
that she’s out of my life
and that I do not have to face
another nightmare.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Four Oclock In The Morning
4 oclock in the morning
When the ambulance arrived
4 oclock in the morning
When the ambulance arrived
The blue lights were flashing
As they lay my baby down inside
They took her to the hospital
In the darkest hour of the night
They took her to the hospital
In the darkest hour of the night
It was silent as the grave
As my baby lay beneath the light
They turned on the gas and cut her open
She didnt feel no pain
They turned on the gas and cut her open
She didnt feel no more pain
Daylight was breaking
And down came the rain
Down came the rain
Down came the rain
Down came the rain
Down came the rain
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Ambulance
so that ambulance just went by
and if you were high
the flashing lights would be a show
red as the blood she spilled
red enough to let her go
she filled in the outlines with her nails
just as red as she
then there was a red circus, for sale
as she red as she would be
and the fire was just so
that the red blazes burned her eyes
i think it was the red that let her go
like the red from her eyes after a person cries
so red, so real, from wrist to lights
so red, everytime, even in the night
shes like the savior
or the sacrafice
her nails, or the nails of the cross?
was it it the cross on the red ambulance
with the red lights?
or was it the cross of the savior, the sacrifice
was it all red every night?
is this a remake or the living
from the wrists
on the nails
where the lights
on the ambulance
with the cross
of the savior
with the nails
on the wrists
in the ambulance
with the cross
of the savior
red from the nails
on the wrists
that lay in the ambulance
the flashing red lights
near the cross
of the savior?
the sacrifice?
in the wrists
red with nails
on the cross
of savior or the saved?
ambulance
or cross
the wrists
the nails
the lights
the ambulance
the cross
the savior
with all the red
poem by Kathryn Garner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The ambulance outside.
Can you see that ambulance outside?
I suppose you wonder what it doing there?
Bet you think what's the nutter done now?
She's a right one her.
Thats what they all think.
She's an attention seeker and she's nuts.
It's what everybody thinks about me.
But if you look into my eyes.
You'll see a life time of pain.
The smile I wore was a disguise.
So what's that ambulance doing outside?
The nutter slashed her arms.
She killed her self.
So that ambulance outside,
Has come to take the nutter away.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jam..
On the road
Sound horn
Running ambulance...
Jam on the road
Many buses
Bycycles
Twoweller's
Car's
Stoped ther...
Ambulance
Also stoped...
Patient was
Critical stage
In side the ambulance...
Road way was
Not clear...
O2 cylinder
was emty;
patient respration
Was very fast...
The road way
Clear ambulance
Move very fast...
But;
Patient was serieas
On the ambulance...
Sound horn only
Shouting
Way for the road
Patient was died...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Driver Smith
'Twas Driver Smith of Battery A was anxious to see a fight;
He thought of the Transvaal all the day, he thought of it all the night --
"Well, if the battery's left behind, I'll go to the war," says he,
"I'll go a-driving and ambulance in the ranks of the A.M.C.
"I'm fairly sick of these here parades -- it's want of a change that kills --
A-charging the Randwick Rifle Range and aiming at Surry Hills.
And I think if I go with the ambulance I'm certain to find a show,
For they have to send the Medical men wherever the troops can go.
"Wherever the rifle bullets flash and the Maxims raise a din,
It's here you'll find the Medical men a-raking the wounded in --
A-raking 'em in like human flies -- and a driver smart like me
Will find some scope for his extra skill in the ranks of the A.M.C."
So Driver Smith he went to war a-cracking his driver's whip,
From ambulance to collecting base they showed him his regular trip.
And he said to the boys that were marching past, as he gave his whip a crack,
"You'll walk yourselves to the fight," says he -- "Lord spare me, I'll drive you back."
Now the fight went on in the Transvaal hills for the half of a day or more,
And Driver Smith he worked his trip -- all aboard for the seat of war!
He took his load from the stretcher men and hurried 'em homeward fast
Till he heard a sound that he knew full well -- a battery rolling past.
He heard the clink of the leading chains and the roll of the guns behind --
He heard the crack of the drivers' whips, and he says to 'em, "Strike me blind,
I'll miss me trip with this ambulance, although I don't care to shirk,
But I'll take the car off the line today and follow the guns at work."
Then up the Battery Colonel came a-cursing 'em black in the face.
"Sit down and shift 'e,, you drivers there, and gallop 'em into place."
So off the Battery rolled and swung, a-going a merry dance,
And holding his own with the leading gun goes Smith with his ambulance.
They opened fire on the mountain side, a-peppering by and large,
When over the hill above their flank the Boers came down at the charge;
They rushed the guns with a daring rush, a-volleying left and right,
And Driver Smith and his ambulance moved up to the edge of the fight.
The gunners stuck to their guns like men, and fought as the wild cats fight,
For a Battery man don't leave his gun with ever a hope in sight;
But the bullets sang and the Mausers cracked and the Battery men gave away,
Till Driver Smith with his ambulance drove into the thick of the fray.
He saw the head of the Transvaal troop a-thundering to and fro,
A hard old face with a monkey beard -- a face that he seemed to know;
"Now who's that leader?" said Driver Smith. "I've seen him before today.
Why, bless my heart, but it's Kruger's self," and he jumped for him straight away.
He collared old Kruger round the waist and hustled him into the van.
It wasn't according to stretcher drill for raising a wounded man;
But he forced him in and said, "All aboard, we're off for a little ride,
And you'll have the car to yourself," says he, "I reckon we're full inside."
He wheeled his team on the mountain side and set 'em a merry pace,
A-galloping over the rocks and stones, and a lot of the Boers gave chase;
Bur Driver Smith had a fairish start, and he said to the Boers, "Good-day,
You have Buckley's chance for to catch a man that was trained in Battery A."
He drove his team to the hospital bed and said to the P.M.O.,
"Beg pardon, sir, but I missed the trip, mistaking the way to go;
And Kruger came to the ambulance and asked could we spare a bed,
So I fetched him here, and we'll take him home to show for a bob a head."
So the word went round to the English troops to say they need fight no more,
For Driver Smith with his ambulance had ended the blooming war.
And in London now at the music halls he's starring it every night,
And drawing a hundred pounds a week to tell how he won the fight.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hospital Food
Coming down through the alley
Trying to walk without a sound
It doesnt really matter
cause there aint no one around
Tip toe through the alley and
Tip toe through your life
You still got it coming
Be it gun be it knife
Next thing you know
Youre eating hospital food
Karaoke castration
Take the wasp alive
Hes gonna sting you anyway
And take you to the hive
Yesterday was suckin and
Tomorrows looking bad
Who knew that today
Was the only thing I had
Hospital food
Want some hospital food
Hospital food
Delicious hospital food
In your tribute album to the world
You must never forget
To sing the one about the cat
Whos always getting wet
He always got a problem
Hes a very bitter dude
And now hes complaining
About his hospital food
Hospital food
Its gonna help the medicine go down
Want some hospital food
Gonna take a walk without a sound
A little hospital food
Helps the spoonful of sugar come up
I want some hospital food
In your blender and in my cup
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Helpless With Dementia
I was a victim of dementia
I could not remember recent things
Confined to a small lock down area
When I had a visitor, I was so happy
I can’t remember that I wasn’t a real mother to you
Or when I let others abuse and beat you too
I am now at the mercy of all others
Oh how I pray you forgave me too
You tried your best to take care of me
But I kept wandering off, only wanting to be free
You felt such guilt and cried many tears
When the doctor said you could no longer take care of me
I know you searched many nursing homes
To find that special place, that would care for me
A place of love, where i couldn’t roam
A place with nurses, where I’d be safe
You paced the floors and cried
Each time they sent me to the hospital
They would say I must haven fallen
They were convincing with their lies
Bruises on my face, they weren’t all falls
Violent patients abused me
I was at the mercy of all of them
Said they wouldn’t break elder laws
They had an excuse for everything
Blow after blow
You tried to stay most of the time
For you they put on a show
When you were there
They would paint my finger nails
And fix my hair
When you were gone I was tied to a chair
They took my dignity and self respect
They were paid by the hour, and didn’t care
Towards the end, they say I fell and broke my hip
Next week told I fell and broke my leg
Once a week I was at the emergency room
You always beat the ambulance there
The last hospital visit, I got a staph infection
The doctor said i was near the end
I couldn’t tell you what they did to me
Because I forgot so much
You stayed by my side until the end
Telling me you loved me, and softly singing hyms
The angels came for me one night
And ended all my pain
Please don’t cry for me anymore
I’ve been made whole again
I look down at you, and wish I could take the pain away
I’m in heaven now and this is where I must stay!
To all that have loved ones with dementia, please guard their care.
All nursing homes are not the way they seem. They will put on a show for you so they can make their blood money. They neglected and abused my mother. So I am her voice.
To my mother who did the best she knew how to.
poem by Donna Nimmo
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A Poem to a Friend Who Deceived me
I gave you my friendship in all its innocence,
You took it and trampled it in the dust,
Later they called an ambulance,
You had desecrated my love and my trust.
When I was discharged from the hospital
You were fawning about my knees,
You thought that I'd have you back again,
You clung like an infectious disease.
We don't have many years on this planet -
Let's cherish the friends who are true;
A lot of my time has been wasted
By a person who looks just like you!
At school they tried to teach me forgiveness
And said it would conquer Hate,
I never understood their meaning
And now, I'm afraid, it's too late! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Nursing Home Neglect
I've seen those who are suffering very bad
Those whose mere existence very sad
I am blessed to be well and alive each day
For those people I continue to pray
I have seen so much neglect and abuse
For the young and elderly never a truce
So hopelessly lying in their beds, day in day out
They can't say a word, just an occasional shout
Have to lie in their waste most of the time
Their bodies covered with dirt and grime
Does anyone out there really care?
Or is this a cross for the poor elderly to bear
They can't eat or drink when they need to
It's not their decision, not part of the crew
Their minds are gone and they can't remember
So taken advantage of, a smoldering ember
They have no control over their life anymore
Often found in their rooms, laying on the floor
The cuts on their head, don't know what happened
They either fell or had a good slapping
Call an ambulance they say out loud
Keep it quiet, don't want a crowd
They can't tell the hospital, what happened to them
Can't remember anything, the home was a gem
Many broken bones and cuts on their face
Is this normal routine at this horrible place
So bad an infection, that they finally die
Who's to blame, the death certificates a lie
The hospital doesn't report the neglect
It's not their problem, what the heck
The doctor lies to make it so easy
Has no consience, he's pretty sleazy
If you have a loved, better check where you put them
Because most of them are bad and need condemned
My mother is gone to a better place now
It's in heaven, where there is plenty of chow
She is not neglected or abused anymore
God knows what happens, and isn't found in the floor
She's singing and dancing and waiting for me
She's sad no longer but full of glee
God will restore what was done to her
Since she's in heaven with her new transfer!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Are We Ill?
How many men are against us when we are ill?
Illness desires you as a last resort, when ill.
The magnificent and the abhorrent ailments
Need both cures, again and again in the hospital.
The hospital is for doctors who care,
And the nurses are fearful of you.
Patients need patience to adore the health
Of a nation in pity for their condition.
The pities are seldom seen in youth
As they are in public or private.
May the men who are against us be quiet
Now that illness is the past.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The final act
Screeching screams.
Sirens blaring out.
Someone knows just what I'm trying to do.
But the pills I alreay swallowed.
It was with grate ease.
Then comes the whirlwind of a spin.
And all your head will do is spin.
You know just what you want.
You want death not life.
You just want a means to an end.
But some fall finds out.
Ambulance and police arrive.
Knocking at the door.
Bludy idiots think I'll answer the thing.
Its the final act I want my death.
They knock once more.
I hope they've gone away.
Next I no the door flys through.
In the they come.
Its not oo late.
Off to the hospital she goes.
It was to be final act
But this time it wasnt to be
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Life Lived
Life of spite and defiance
To watch people tooling around on Mars
To celebrate the end of the last war
To attend the funeral of corporate personhood
76th wedding anniversary walking across the dry Ganga
Hundredth birthday drinking my age in pints of beer
Why don't you join me? Consider yourself invited
To throw a bushel of rose petals from the space elevator
Zero emissions ambulance sweeping me to the hospital
And I'll saddle up my Horse for the ride home
All bad things must one day end and so will I
poem by Tribhuvan Mendiratta
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Revelation
Been ‘bout ten years Shell I been together,
All pretty fine, some ups and downs and whatever
Couple of kids no more had been planned
Fibro house, half an acre of land
Oh yeah, Shell is pregnant which was quite a surprise
Not sure if the house is an adequate size
But, hell, I’m now happy though was worried at first
The area round here’s goin’ from bad unto worse
It’s housing commission and they put the dregs here
Lots of blackfellas with their swearing and beers
They drink on the footpath all times of the day
An' look at us white folk in menacing ways
I’d get rid of ‘em all if only I could
I’ve never yet met an Abo that’s good
They lie and they steal and they’re primitive too
Send them back to the country is what we should do.
Anyway, on this particular night
Shell’s breathing heavy and didn’t feel right
So I called up the doctor who told us to wait
Time the contractions and get ready mate
‘Round ‘bout three thirty we knew it was time
Twenty k’s to the hospital – not a long drive
It was windy that night and the clouds they were low
So we got in the car and drove safe and slow
It was then that the rain came – like being in the shower
What should take ten minutes was taking an hour
The creek burst its banks down near Somersby way
And the radio said there would be big delays
I got on the mobile – quite frantic by now
Then Shell’s waters broke and I didn’t know how
Somehow then it all happened so very quick
But the blood and the screaming made me feel sick
Then all I could hear was a tiny quiet cry
My baby! My baby! I sang to the sky
It was dark on that roadway – nobody around
And the rain it was teeming – we were stuck out of town
The ambulance got there ‘bout a quarter to five
I stayed with the car – I was planning to drive
I now think that it’s strange I stayed with the car
I’d not yet seen my baby – the night had no stars.
“This can’t be my child! ” I screamed at the nurse
“You’ve made a mistake and to make matters worse
This baby is black so just take it away!
Now sort out this cock up or I’ll make you all pay! ”
I woke with a bandage surrounding my head
A drip in my arm in a hospital bed
They gave me sedation and I felt quite numb
Was this all a nightmare? What had I done?
I’d passed clean out in that hospital ward
‘Cos we had the wrong baby and I’d fell on the floor
A sensible doctor then came to see me
Now just a few questions he said patiently
How is my baby? And how is my Shell?
They’re doing quite nicely, he said, very well
Now tell me, the Doctor then asked seriously
Where are your parents and are they healthy?
Why is there a problem? I asked him once more
No, not really a problem just for my records
So, you were adopted? And when would that be?
I told him it was ‘round nineteen seventy three
I’d lived out near Dubbo and my parents were killed
In a car crash or something on a road in the hills
That is your wife’s baby, he said quietly
My blood pressure rose and I started to scream
But it can’t be my child so where’s the bitch been
I’ll kill her! I’ll kill her! That whore’s cheated on me!
I took what they called a paternity test
The lawyer said it was all for the best
I now know the truth and it’s been hard to take
That baby’s my own and was not a mistake
I’d thought I was Irish with some Maltese genes
But I am an Abo – that’s proven it seems
My parents they died just a few years ago
They’d lived in the country – they’d moved out from Dubbo
They thought if adopted then I’d have more chance
Of a prosperous life and improved circumstance
So all of those years I’d been living a lie
Regarding myself as superior white
‘I don’t look like a black man’ I said to the lawyer
‘But then nor do I, would you please sign this form sir’.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sex And The Medical Profession
Sex and the Medical Profession
I’m sitting in my car waiting for my wife who is at mass
I find it impossible to believe in any religion, but I say
nothing it is important for my wife to believe in a merciful
god. Paris, and agony, my wife prayed but did call
an ambulance. Battling doctors, how young they are, I felt
like a low paid, reluctant actor in a hospital drama, one
who has to play the nurse when he really wanted to be
the famous heart transplant surgeon.
The doc asked if I smoked. No! She looked sullen since
I didn’t, it is so easy to blame the fag. I said I had smoked
15 years ago, she looked relieved and told me to keep up
the good, work: she removed the catheter a lovely pee
Is better than sex, if temporarily, now I feel like making
love, my wife tells I’m deluded, I say nothing but bid my
time, keep a blanket in my car in case I should meet
someone who is equally barmy.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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My Own Way
I sat down again, knowing the brightened sky,
Returning the exceptional wisdom to the grave;
Full of it I was, when this episode crept on the excitation,
Making it happy, in myself.
I sat at home before the medicine could arrive,
An ambulance adventured far too hard,
Into the territory of a sweet-tempered man,
His illness crept up on him, and took him away.
This sky was devilled, this ground decayed,
For we were in a hospital of disgrace and confinement,
The correcting happened, and we were away,
Like a happy soul my life became its own way.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Strangers in Time
I'll ever remember the day she left
In a storm, I was so unkind,
I'd hurled the dinner right over her head
At the wall, and it blew her mind!
‘That's it! ' she muttered, and grabbed her bag
Went sailing out of the door,
With never a backward glance at me
Or our lives, forever more!
I sat for a week, just waited, thinking
Soon she'll be coming home,
Sat in the dark and hated, loved,
Then thought I'd better atone,
So I took to the streets, her mother's house
But of her, there wasn't a trace,
I tried her sister and brother's homes
And they slammed the door in my face.
Louise had walked right out of my life
And she wouldn't be coming back,
My world collapsed in a fit of tears
But I had to accept the fact,
I walked unthinking into the road,
Was hit by the local bus,
I vaguely remember the ambulance bell
And waking up in a truss.
There was something odd in that hospital,
I couldn't quite pin it down,
The ward was the long, old-fashioned sort
In a seedy part of town,
I noticed the nurse's uniforms
Were odd, like they used to wear
Back in the fifties, as a kid
I'd had tonsillitis there.
There was more than plenty of time to think
And I went back through my life,
Went back to every decision I'd made
Right up to losing my wife,
If I'd just done this, or just said that
I'd have taken a different tack,
So many ways I'd mishandled things
With no chance of going back.
And there, behind each second of time
Was a choice that we'd have to make,
Two paths had always been open to us
What path did the other path take?
Could there be a parallel universe
Where the other half of me,
Had made those different decisions,
Was alive, but happy and free?
It took three months for my wounds to heal
Then I found myself in the street,
It wasn't the town I remembered, though,
It had changed, perceptively,
And I was feeling much younger
So much fitter than before,
A glimpse of my face in a mirror, caught
And shocked me to the core!
I went to the university
And there I saw Louise,
Just as I'd seen her years before
And she waved and smiled at me,
Or I thought she did, but she passed me by
Went up to another man,
Kissed him there in the quad, and then
Walked off with him, hand in hand.
I was back in a parallel universe
Before she'd become my wife,
And now I remembered, Andy Cole
Had caused me a lot of strife,
We'd both gone after the same Louise
In the end, she'd chosen me,
But not before he had done with her,
Walked off, and set her free.
I followed them at a distance to
The place where they shared a flat,
I noticed she wore a wedding ring
And I thought that that was that!
I'd come too late in this scheme of things
That had taken another line,
I walked by her, but she knew me not,
We were simply strangers in time.
Then suddenly I was back at home
And closing the old front door,
I could smell Louise's cooking, it
Was a dish I'd come to abhor,
I took my place at the table and
She handed me the plate,
I said, ‘It smells delicious, dear! '
I'm the master of my fate!
7 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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