That hospital ward in 87
and you a young
3 year old
with an  infected leg.

You and I sitting
by the window
looking at the scene
and the trains going by
every now and then.

And the nurses
trying to get you
to take the medicine
and you fighting them off
and wiggling
and then after
they got it in your mouth
you let it drip out
of the side of your mouth
with that infamous smile.

That last time
in hospital in 2014,
with something more deadly,
the dark ward,
bed by the window,
you alone, adult now,
I saw you there,
huddled over,
puffed up,
seemingly neglected,
and I went
and rattled
the nurse's cage
about you
and the treatment
or lack of.

That last time we spoke,
mundane questions,
you ill, soft spoken,
fighting to breathe,
no infamous smile,
no last famous words,
just a reluctance
to say good bye
and leave.