I remember the grey paving, The knock on the white door A young boy in his modern wheelchair Only and all of 16.
The fun and laughter The jokes and the tears His brother high on the bunk, Slagging me, messin’ and gettin’ me soaked.
I ran the hot water I sponged his face I also brushed his teeth, His arms couldn’t move, you see.
I remember the hoist, the colourful sling The plastic pee bottle and smells, Truly striking me from the start, The importance of bringing dignity, to life.
The removal of clothes, being stripped To his white underwear, propped up in his bed Like a statue alive yet almost frozen, still Living in a body harshly diseased.
Those halved white tablets and nasal sprays His small innocent eyes, beneath jet black hair This great guy lying there restricted, like others Once ran, once leapt and caused mischief. I remember his smile, his friendly goodnights His words of thanks from his sweet gentle voice I remember the cracked paving as clearly now And that gentle knock on the door.