Chailey Heritage Old Scholars Association
WHEELCHAIR
Already the cushion in my chair is sinking
That sinking feeling from an old friend
Who is past making comfortable talk.
The arm rests tremble, with a chitter
As if the metal was giving its last gasp.
But we are stuck together, time
Will have to stop before we part company.
Nothing can stop age, man or machine
Both crumble with time folding in to each other.
"You need replacing" I say, patting a wheel.
She creaks in protest, "Not yet" I murmur,
As I stiffly push and she stiffly moves.
Annie’s Page
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