Memories Are Made Of This

Dead skin danced in the sunshine
Immobile, thinking of winter the paraplegic
Remember cold wet snow. Pressing
Snow into balls. Throwing. Ducking. Diving.
Building snowmen. Cold hands, chilblains
“Great days,” he thought. Sweat drips
“Nurse!” he thought. “My neck is wet.”

His friend visits. No chair is necessary.
Visitors stand when visiting. The paraplegic
Remembers running, swimming and being jolly.
Sweating from exertion!
Friends stand where they can be seen
His head is firmly held and braced
Keeping death far away.

His jaw is wired shut. He can’t smile.
His brain smiles instead. Joy spreads to his eyes,
Remembers meals eaten, wine drunk,
Stupid things said, laughingly forgiven.
Exhausted: He remembers relaxing,
Remembers easing back onto plumped up pillows.
Eyes closed he sleeps happily.




2 Responses to Memories Are Made Of This

  1. odeboyz says:

    ‘Closet softie’? Actually I was reflecting on the possibility of a good quality of life for people who seemingly had no quality of life at all. The desire to live a different life within their own terms.

  2. Peter Baxendale says:

    Amazingly descriptive and moving.You are a closet softie,Chris

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