The Dying Room

On the first day she was borderline. It was white and sunny, the Dying Room They gave me a rich tea biscuit the colour of clay With weak tea, served in a hospital mug. I sat in silence by her silent bed. On the second day They asked my permission To withdraw life support 'You wouldn't want your mother To be a vegetable, ' a young nurse said With cheeks like fiery apples, I gave my agreement To quicken my mother's going. I sat in silence by her silent bed. The drips were drawn away I remember the wheels of the trolley They gave me strong tea And a piece of cherry cake. Her head rolled on the pillow An old turnip, yellow, with threads of grey. I poured banalities into her shrivelled ears Late rain on stony ground. On the third day her lips moved. She left the Dying Room Came back to a sort of life. I sat in silence by her silent bed.