Going Home

“Mrs Jones, where are you going ?”
Why do they always say that ?

The cleaners with buckets and mops,
the women in white uniforms
call out as she passes
along corridors, past bedrooms.
She knows it is time to go home now.
Surely they understand that ?

She walks briskly downhill,
how to cross the road ?
with cars rushing by ?
She wants to reach the other side
to go back home again.
Two uniforms appear with a wheelchair
to take her back to the place that’s not home,
to the room that’s not hers.

“Mrs Jones, where are you going ?”
Why do they always say that ?
She walks out again
but her legs get too tired.
She tells the man pruning his bushes
she must sit on his wall to rest her legs.
He smiles, goes inside, returns with a chair.
Two uniforms appear with a wheelchair !
They greet and thank the man !!
He rang the place she had left !!

They take her  back along the road
to the place that’s not home,
to the room that’s not hers.
But she must go home now,
she’s been gone too long,
surely they understand that ?

They say she lives here now.
Her husband will come this afternoon
and visit her in her room.

Originally posted 19 February 2016.

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Going Home

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