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.

sheena blackhall

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dying-room-3/