#1940
You lay there in the hospital bed blind and legless. You depended on your hearing to discover what was going on around you. Your leg stumps were bandaged and as you lay there you felt like so much meat on a butcher’s bench. You had visitors now and then like Donald and Guy, but few others. Your house had been bombed in the air raid and your maid had been killed. You lay there going over it in your mind, how your lover Clive had been killed in Dunkirk, how you and he made love that last night together before he went and joined his regiment. Now a memory, and you doubted anyone would make love to you anymore. Donald had brought along with him the other day a man named Philip with him whom you didn’t know. He was soft spoken and asked questions. You wondered what he made of you sitting in the wheelchair in the open air of the hospital, blind and with bandaged leg stumps. Anthony another friend of Guy’s who you met a few times came once, but hardly spoke, and you could imagine him gazing at you with displeasure. He talked about the war and about his engagement in war work of some sort. You lay there and it was all going around in your head, but you were glad you were now alive and not dead.
Feb 26, 2025
Feb 26, 2025 at 3:26 AM UTC
Grace felt down
to feel her
two leg stumps;
her legs had
been cut off
or what was
left of them
once the bomb
had done its
worse during
the London
blitz. She felt
bandages,
felt the pain,
wriggled her
toes not there,
tried to think
them still there,
but they were
no longer
there, just space
where they were.
Grace couldn't
see, she was
blind; no sight
to see legs
not there now,
unable
to go ***
unaided;
that's what it
felt like to
her being
down graded.
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 6:09 PM UTC
Noises around
and I am
blanket bathed.
I stare up
but see only darkness
my blind eyes bring.
The nurses talk
between themselves
as they wash me
intimately.
My leg stumps
are unbandaged
and air gets to them.
They talk about
a new young doctor.
I think about nothing
but everything.
I sense them
wash me.
Dampness
refreshes me.
I vaguely remember
the bombing
and then nothing.
I wish Clive was alive
and here with me.
Philip came yesterday
and talked to me.
He is Guy's friend
and works
in the Foreign Office
he said.
He wants
to take me out
for dinner.
I am half
a woman now.
The nurses dry me gently
then rebandage the stumps
and dress me
and wheel me out
into the sun.
I sit alone
with birdsong sounds
nearby.
I am undone
and want to cry.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
They had unbandaged
her leg stumps.
Her blind eyes
saw only darkness.
She could hear their voices
and feel their fingers
and air on bare flesh.
She lay on her back
trying to make sense
of their words.
One spoke of healing
and another of measuring
for artificial limbs.
One voice
sounded Irish.
A young nurse
she assumed.
She replied to questions
they asked.
She lay there
quite exposed.
She wondered
if her maid
had suffered
in the bombing.
Clive whom she loved
and made love to
had died at Dunkirk
the year before.
One voice became distant
then disappeared.
The nurse(she assumed)
was attending the stumps.
Grace stared into
the blackness and heard
on the ward other
voices on the air.
She seemed
embraced
by the cold arms
of despair.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
On the retreat through
Belgium you tended to
a young soldier wounded
by machine gun fire across
his abdomen. He lay there
on a stretcher unconscious.
He needed a doctor but none
was there. You unwound the
bloodied bandages. His arm
was hanging loose and a bone
was poking through. He was
still unconscious. A fellow
soldier suggested they move
on as the Germans were not
far away. You rebandaged him.
He was pale. You got two
stretcher bearers to take him
to the nearest ambulance.
They walked off with him
across the muddy ground
to a battered ambulance
over the way. Move on the
sergeant called Jerry's on
his way. You moved into
the ambulance and off it
went. The soldier lay there
unaware of the place or time
or danger. You watched him
there without worries or care.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
Charlie said about going
into the small French town.
You'd been told about the
street of brothels. There
were other soldiers walking
up and down the street.
Girls milled about in flimsy
dresses or tight skirts.
Charlie and you had never
had *** before but neither
told the other. Charlie went
into one such place and you
followed. There was a bar
and tables and some chairs.
Girls were with soliders
getting them to buy them
drinks then take them upstairs.
Charlie bought the drinks.
Dark beer stuff. Two young
girls came over and spoke
in a broken English about
buying drinks. They moved
themselves against you both.
You sipped the beer. Charlie
drank a couple of mouthfuls
and went off with the thin
faced French girl. You stood
there with your glass of beer
looking at the girl left behind.
Your father who had been
out in France in the first war
said to avoid those places
or you'd get the pox. She said
about going upstairs. You said
you couldn't not today. She
rubbed herself against you.
You gulped at your beer not
knowing about *** or what to do.
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 3:09 AM UTC
Grace remembered an explosion
a flash of light then darkness.
The darkness never went. She
knew she was awake by the
sound of voices and people
passing by. She called out.
Some one came to her and
took her hand. It's all right
you are in hospital the soft
voice said. Hospital? Why am
I in Hospital? Your house
was hit in the bombing
the other day the voice said.
She stared where the voice
came from. Why can't I see?
The doctors are not sure
but it maybe just temporary
blindness the voice replied.
Grace felt down her side.
I can't feel my legs? The voice
hesitated. They had to be
amputated. A shock ran
through her head. She tried
to sit up but she couldn't.
Both legs? The voice was
soft in reply. Yes they were
a mess crushed and trapped.
She couldn't take it in. What
about my maid she was in
the house? She was killed
I am sorry to say the voice
replied. Grace stared into
blackness. The sounds
about her seemed far away.
We will do all we can for you.
I wish I'd died she murmured
then turning away she cried.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
I wish, I could time travel to 40s.
When,
Imagination used to be colourful
Songs, filled with presence
Ponds, serene deep
And,
The sky, clear blue.
I wish, I could time travel to 40s.
To witness, How,
The Humans were made Guinea pigs
WHO started to crawl
Penicillin promised its magic.
I wish, I could time travel to 40s.
When,
Mustache use to rule this world
Charlie was my smile Icon
****** has nonsense to tell
And,
Albert was lamenting.
I wish back, days of 1940s.
When,
Trust has everything to do.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
Dunkirk 1940.
Clive died there
on the beach.
I remember
the last night
we had together
before he went off
with his regiment.
I had given
my maid
the night off
so we could be
alone together.
We made love
a few times
then talked
then slept.
After the War Grace
he said
we must marry
and settle down
and have a family.
But he died.
I lay here now
in the hospital
blind and
without legs
and left only
the memories
of Clive and I.
Anthony and Guy
visited today
they said Philip
had gone on business
for the government
and would see me
later in the week.
I sat in wheelchair
as they spoke outside
in the afternoon sun
trying to picture
Anthony as he spoke.
I'd only met him
a few times before.
Guy was his usual self
boastful humorous
full of his
upper-class jokes.
Now they have gone
and I am here alone.
The memory
of Clive chokes.
Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 7:52 AM UTC
There are cries
and the sound of rushing
and voices high.
I stare into the blackness
with my blind eyes
and turn my head
following the noise.
I sit up
balancing myself
on my leg stumps
hands each side
of my hips.
What's going on?
I call
what's happened?
Someone comes
beside my bed.
Girls got bombed
in the jam factory
the voice said
many killed
others covered
in hot sugar.
The voice went off
I wanted to get up
but I could go
now where
without legs.
I lay down again
peering into the darkness
wishing Clive was there
not dead some place
or where is Philip?
I lay my head
on the pillow
wanting him there
beside me on the bed
making love to me
inside my head.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 3:48 AM UTC
Philip came to see me
this afternoon.
I was outside
in the afternoon sunshine.
I felt it's warmth on me
I didn't expect him to come
I expect nothing
these days.
It all seems the same
in this darkness.
I don't know
what he looks like
a nurse said
he is good looking.
My blind eyes
focus only
where I hear him.
He held my hand
and kissed my cheek.
He lit me a cigarette
and we sat in silence
for awhile smoking.
When we did talk
it was on matters of me
getting artificial legs
and where he'd like
to take me.
All I could think about
was Clive and how
we made love
that last time.
Now he's dead
and I'm here
blind and legless.
For some reason
out of the blue
I whispered to Philip
make love to me
when we can
and he said
when we can.
I don't know why
I had said that
I suppose I wanted
to see if he would
even if I had no legs
and no sight
he would want to
and he had said
when we can.
I imagine
nothing now
not that
or having
those legs
to walk with
but in a bed
being made love to.
The ward is quiet now
the other patients sleep
just me here alone
wanting a future
of sorts
but not now
that will keep.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
The nurse shows me
where Grace sits
in her wheelchair
out on the lawn
in the afternoon
sunshine.
Her blind eyes
peering up
towards the sun
she cannot see.
A blanket covers
her leg stumps
from view
her hands are in
her lap idle.
Hello Grace
I say.
She turns
her eyes
towards me
away from the sun.
Philip?
she says
reaching out to me
with a hand.
I take her
hand in mine
and kiss her cheek.
How are you?
I say
kneeling down
on the grass
beside her.
Depressed and bored
she replies
squeezing my hand
in hers.
Other patients
sit on chairs
or in wheelchairs
talking to others
or sitting alone
taking the sun.
Shall I push you
around a bit
away from the chatter?
I say.
The scene's
the same to me
where ever we go
she says moodily
sit beside me
go get a chair
she adds.
I go back inside
the ward
and borrow a chair
and take it out
and place it
beside her
and sit down.
Cigarette?
I say.
She nods
that'd be good
she says.
I take out a packet
and take out two
and place one
between her lips
and one in mine
and put the packet away.
I light both cigarettes
with a lighter
and we puff away.
She isn't
very talkative.
I talk of things
I have done
(except what is secret
hush hush stuff).
She talks of her day
stuck in the ward
in the dark
being washed
and toileted
listening to the radio
on the ward
playing dance music
or talk of news
and war.
I study her
as we sit
wishing I could
take her out again
for dinner or just
to sit in St James's Park
and be alone.
I miss Clive
she says
**** the War
and Dunkirk
why did he
have to die?
I don't know Grace
the whole show
is going to ***
I say.
If I had my legs
I could fend better
for myself
she says.
They did talk
of getting you
artificial legs
when I was here last
I say.
But when
will that be
what with the War
and such
she says.
The sun is warm
and the sky
a bright blue
clouds drift overhead.
I try to sound optimistic
but it sounds quite lame.
Will you make
love to me
when we can?
she whispers.
I blush
but she cannot see.
When we can
I reply
looking up
at the sky.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
Guy and Donald visit me
in the hospital grounds
where I sit in a wheelchair
in the warm sun.
My blind eyes
look towards each one
as they speak.
Philip's away
a few days
he told us
but he'll be back
within the week
Guy says.
Where has he gone?
I ask.
Can't say
hush hush
but he'll be back
Guy says.
Back safe
Donald adds.
Where is safe
in this war?
Good point
Guy says
taking my hand
but he will back.
How are you
getting along?
Donald says.
I am to be measured
for artificial legs
I am told
I say.
That'd be good
Guy says
back on your
feet again.
Not my feet though
I reply
I'll have to fit them
on each day
and take them off
at night before bed.
You'll manage
Guy says
you are
a determined woman
who knows her mind.
Am I?
not sure I have
that mind any more
lost my legs
and my sight
and Clive.
Someone up there
has it in for me
I say.
Yes the Germans
Donald says
and you will
show them
you have courage
and will not
let them
see you down.
I wipe my eyes
with a handkerchief
from my
dressing gown pocket.
Shall we push you
around the grounds?
Guy says.
It is all
the same to me
I can't see anything
I say.
It is silent
for a few moments.
Look Grace
we have to go
keep your chin up
Guy says.
Yes be strong
Donald says.
Then they go
after kissing my cheek
and I sit feeling
undone and weak.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:11 AM UTC
Life changing
the Blitz bomb
took my sight
and my legs.
Clive gone too
at Dunkirk.
I recall
our last kiss
as the train
left London.
I sit in
this darkness.
Hospital
smells around
and voice sounds.
Morning Grace
a voice says.
My blind eyes
turn around
to the sound.
Who is it?
I enquire.
Doctor Clay
I have come
to see you
and see how
your stumps are
the voice says.
They're painful
I tell him.
Nurse we need
Grace to be
lying down.
Between them
they lift me
on the bed.
Fingers lift
my nightdress
and unwrap
bandages.
Fresh air hits
the leg stumps.
His fingers
examine
what is left
of my legs.
They're healing
very well
he tells me.
Soon we will
have someone
sort you out
for new legs
he informs.
I thank him.
He goes off
and the nurse
(small fingered)
now attends
to some fresh
bandages.
As her fingers
touch my thighs
I recall
Clive touching
me there too
that last time
before he left
for the War.
I stare out
into dark
cold spaces
and a far
away shore.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
I hear birds singing
and feel the warm sun
on my uplifted face,
I have been wheeled
into the grounds
of the hospital
I hear voices of others
I cannot see
my blind eyes turn
in the direction of sound,
I still have Philip's words
about marriage in my ears
and it unsettles me
as we hardly
know each other
and I without sight or legs
would be a burden on him
and I do not want his pity
although he says it is love,
I have told no one
about his proposal
it seems too unsettling
to talk about it yet
but I sit here
and look into darkness
and feel empty inside
as if I have opened a door
and blackness entered into me
and I feel lost,
I am dependant on others
on things which others
cope with on their own
and when they will and can
while I have to be taken places
and lifted or carried
to the toilet or bath,
I hear someone talk
as they pass by
another replies
far off the hum
of traffic
and a nearby laugh.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 4:17 AM UTC
Philip has come
to wheel me
around St James Park.
I feel the warm sun
on my face.
He wheels me
in silence
along paths
I cannot see;
past people talking
then we come to a stop.
We're by the lake,
he says.
I can hear
the ducks,
I tell him.
I move my hand
along to my leg stumps
and pull the blanket
over them.
Are you
comfortable?
He asks.
Yes thank you,
I reply.
How are
the leg stumps?
He asks.
Healing
so I am told.
I stare in the direction
of his voice
with my blind eyes.
Good I’m glad,
he says.
There is silence
for a while;
I listen to the sounds
around me.
Grace I want
to ask you something,
he says.
I turn towards
where his voice is:
what is it?
I ask.
Would you
marry me?
He says softly.
Marry you?
I say bewildered,
you hardly know me
nor I you.
I know, but once
we get to know
each other better
would you?
He says.
I sense he is
leaning close to me.
Why would you
want to marry
a blind woman
without legs?
I ask.
I love you,
he says.
How can you
love me when you
don't know me,
I say irritably.
I love what
I do know,
he replies.
His hand
touches mine;
I feel it there
warm and soft.
how would you
cope with me?
And where
would we live?
I ask.
I will engage
a nurse at the start
until your legs are healed
and you can have
artificial legs;
we can buy a house
in the country,
he says convincingly.
Are you saying this
out of pity?
No of course not,
he says,
I love you.
He kisses
my cheek;
the first kiss
since Clive
kissed me last time
the morning he left
with his regiment
and died in Dunkirk.
I put my hand
where Philip
has kissed me.
I can promise nothing,
I say,
staring into darkness,
but maybe
if things turn out
as you say.
As I speak
my voice
sounds far away.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 3:02 AM UTC
As I turn my blind eyes
to the sun(I feel its warmth),
I think of the Degas paintings
that Clive took me to see
at a London gallery: the
colours and the figures and
the shades of blues and pinks.
Now it is just a memory, and
as I sit here in the hospital
grounds in the wheelchair,
I have a sudden panic knowing
I will never see again, never
see a rainbow or see a blossom
or see the sunrise, and know
that Clive will never come again,
not since his death at Dunkirk,
and that last kiss, that last time
of making love, and I know I
shall never make love again,
and feel with my hands to where
my legs used to be, and feel
the bandaged stumps, and feel
them there, my fingers moving
over them. The sun is still warm
on my head, and when I turn my
face to the sun, I sense a kiss from
a while ago, and will I kiss again?
I ask myself and I want to know.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
I am lifted
by two nurses;
(I hear them
talk to each other)
and stare at each in turn
with my blind eyes,
hoping they won't
drop me.
They lay me
on a trolley,
and then push me
on the trolley past others,
and voices and sounds
coming and going.
Where are we going ?
I ask.
To see Doctor Quinn,
he wants to see
how the leg stumps
are healing,
a nurse says
close to me.
How are my stumps?
I ask.
They seem to be
healing quite well,
a nurse says,
but the doctor wants
to see for himself.
I lie quiet after that
and we enter
a warmer room,
and I grab sounds
as I pass
trying to make
a picture in my mind
about where we are.
We come to a standstill,
and a man's voice says:
ah, Miss Meadows,
I am Doctor Quinn,
I am here to examine
your leg stumps
to see how
they are healing.
I say nothing;
I just nod my head,
and wait.
I sense his fingers
unwrap the bandages,
and I feel his fingers
near my skin;
he removes the bandages,
and fresh air
hits my skin.
Yes they look fine,
he says,
his fingers touch me,
lifts the stumps
one after the other:
I think we can soon
decide about maybe
artificial legs.
Artificial legs?
I say,
imagining
god knows what.
You will need
to learn how
to walk again
in a sense of course,
he says,
but it will come
and we will have you
on your feet again
I am sure,
he says,
but it will be a time
as there is a huge demand
at the moment
in wartime for them
as you can appreciate,
he adds,
not giving me a chance
to speak.
Right nurse
re-bandage
fresh bandages,
and keep
the stumps clean.
He goes
and I lie there
thinking and looking
into darkness
with a dumb stare.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 4:29 AM UTC
Guy and Philip
are with me
on the grass
in the hospital grounds.
I'm in a wheelchair,
they are nearby.
I hear them,
but not see them
with my blind eyes,
but look in their direction.
Take me?
I ask.
A car ride
into the countryside
for a picnic,
Guy says.
And where am I to go
if the call of nature comes?
I say.
I'm sure there'll be
a inn nearby or hotel
for you to use,
Guy says.
And who will help me
and carry me
without my legs?
I say,
becoming annoyed.
There is silence.
Never thought of that,
says Philip,
touching my hand
(I assume it
is Philip).
It is bad enough in here
with nurses around
to get attention
and get there on time,
let alone
in some countryside,
I say.
Yes sorry about that, Grace,
Guy says,
back to the drawing board.
Maybe we will
have to settle
for somewhere nearer,
Philip says.
St James Park is nearest,
I say,
there will be fine.
They agree
and we are silent
for a few moments.
How are you coping?
Guy asks suddenly,
leaning closer to me.
Not easy being blind
and without legs,
stuck in hospital
until I can find
somewhere to live
and a nurse or someone
to help me,
I say,
looking in the direction
of Guy's voice.
The bombing has left
a lot of people homeless,
Philip says,
maybe once your stumps
have healed sufficiently
you can stay
at my place,
I can arrange
for a nurse or two
to attend you.
Live with you?
What would people
say to that?
I say.
As a guest,
he says,
all above board
nothing underhand.
I look towards
his voice.
We'll have to see
how things go,
I reply,
thank you Philip.
They talk of other things;
I listen:
talk of the War
and bombings
and Churchill's speeches
and rationing
and so on.
I think of another life
when I could dance
and see and make love
to Clive before
his death at Dunkirk,
and that last time
we had ***
and it was so hot,
and now I feel
utterly depressed
that I can't be bothered
to listen
to the rest.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC
Philip has come
to the hospital
and taken me out
to the St James Park
near Big Ben;
(I was already dressed,
one of the nurses
dressed me).
We're near the pond
and ducks and swans,
he says.
I gaze to where he says
and see only blackness
through my blind eyes,
but I hear people
and voices and ducks.
I'm in a wheelchair;
he is sitting beside
me on a bench.
I feel his hand take mine:
how are your legs?
He asks.
The leg stumps
are painful,
I say,
they are some days
more than others.
He strokes my hand.
What are you doing
at the Foreign Office?
I ask.
Can't say,
hush hush stuff,
he says,
what with the War
on and that.
I turn to where he is
trying to give
an impression of sight:
do you really
like me?
I ask.
Of course I do,
he replies,
wouldn't be here
with you otherwise
would I?
I suppose not,
I say.
I feel his hand
hold mine gently.
Clive was like that
holding my hand.
But that was before
we had ***
and before he died
at Dunkirk.
Not just stringing me
along are you?
I say suddenly.
I wouldn't do that,
he replies,
what makes you think
I would or am?
Just wondering what
you see in a blind woman
without legs,
I say.
I think I love you,
Grace,
he says,
from that first time
I saw you.
Love me?
I say surprised,
staring through
blind eyes at him,
gathering each
of his words
into my mind.
Yes,
I do,
he says,
his voice more certain.
How do you feel
about me?
he asks.
I am unsure
and look away
into another darkness
and say:
haven't thought about that;
I have been in such
a state with the blindness
and losing my legs,
I haven't thought
about anything else.
He says:
of course you have;
I didn't mean
to cause you more stress.
He is silent
and I hold
his hand tighter
not wanting him
to go off.
You are kind
and have been
so helpful to me
and I should have thought
about you,
and I have,
but feelings are such
complicated things,
I am in different world,
I say.
I shut up
and I feel him
kiss my cheek,
and he says:
it is fine.
We sit and I hear
ducks and people
and his hand
stroking mine.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 3:39 AM UTC
Just when you think
your mind has accepted
a situation, it betrays you,
and asks: why have you
lost your legs and are blind?
And how will you cope
and gives a picture
of many mornings,
when you will wake up,
and see nothing again,
never see a sunset or sunrise,
never walk or dance again,
and it brings you down
and depresses you.
When I wake up
this morning,
that is how it is,
that numb darkness,
that disorientation,
that lostness.
I hear footsteps
on the ward,
near my bed.
Morning Grace,
how are you
this morning?
Who are you?
I ask.
Sister Wellings,
come to see how you are,
she says.
Depressed and fed up,
I say,
putting on a grumpy face,
staring towards where
I think she is.
Not surprised at that,
she says,
I'd be depressed
and fed up, too,
if I lost my legs
and was blind,
but you are a fighter,
Grace and will
overcome this just
give it time.
How much time?
I ask.
I sense her hands
move the bed covers back,
and her fingers
feel along
the bandaged leg stumps.
As long as it takes,
she says,
I was on a ward last month
where we had soldiers
wounded at Dunkirk.
Did you?
I say,
my boyfriend died at Dunkirk.
The thought wounds me,
and I almost choke
on the following words:
we were going marry.
O God, how sad
and now this,
she says,
as her fingers
take off the bandages.
I feel her hands
move over the stumps.
They're healing well,
she says,
soon have
the bandages off completely.
I recall Clive
touching my thighs,
and his fingers moving over
where she moves now.
Then what?
I say,
can I have artificial legs?
Of course,
I expect in time,
she says.
I try to imagine
walking on legs
not mine,
trying to balance
and trying to imagine
Philip watching me
and wondering what
he would think then,
and would he
then just be a man
amongst men?
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
I am wheeled
into the sunlight
(being blind
it is the sun
I feel not see)
and am placed on the grass.
A voice says:
I'll be back for you
later Grace;
if you need to ***
call out.
She is gone,
and I am left
to my darkness
and sunshine's warmth.
I reach down
and feel along my thighs
to where the leg stumps begin;
bandaged up
and feeling painful.
I touch the end
with my shaking fingers
wishing I had my legs again
and could dance
with Clive one more,
but he is dead
in War's hold.
I am here staring
into blackness,
hearing voices from afar,
and a slight breeze
********* my hair.
Philip was good to me
at the dinner date,
patient and kind,
even when I was moody
and tired and sensed
others staring at me
in the restaurant as I sat
there propped up
in my chair
like some broken doll.
Excuse me,
a voice says to my right:
what happened to you?
How'd you lose your legs?
I turn to gaze at the place
of the voice,
female,
young sounding.
Caught in a bombing
in the Blitz,
I say.
Shame that;
lost my house
and my mum and dad
and I was out at work,
she says.
Sorry to hear that,
I say,
wondering who she is
and what she's doing here.
Why are you here?
I say.
She gets nearer to me:
got burnt when the jam factory
I worked in got bombed
and the fecking jam
and sugar sprayed on us;
some were killed,
but I survived,
she says.
How awful,
I say.
I feel tired,
and depressed,
and wish to heck
she'd go away.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
We'd danced until late
and the went off
to some restaurant
Clive knew
and later a club
still open
then Clive walked me home
as we stood outside
looking at the night sky
I said
do you want
to come in for coffee?
you have coffee?
he said
yes a friend
got it for me
I said
all right
he said
and we went in
and had coffee
and the we ended up
in my bed
after ***
we lay there
and he said about
after the War
we could marry
Grace Grace
are you awake?
a voice says
to my right
I stare where
the voice sounds
yes I'm awake
I say
looking through
blind eyes at darkness
can I have a look
at your leg stumps
and give them
a wash down?
the voice says
who are you?
I say
Nurse Rogers
I've been away
back today
yes of course
I say
sensing her pull back
the blankets
and lift up my nightgown
and unbandage the stumps
I feel her cool soft hands
against my skin
it is ages since Clive
did that to me
rub my legs after ***
sometimes before
I muse
as she removes the bandages
and rubs the stumps
how are they?
I ask
they are looking all right
clean and no sign
of infection
she says
I want it to be Clive
doing that
but he died in Dunkirk
and lies elsewhere now
sleeping the eternal rest
so they say
I muse
tears coming to my eyes
am I hurting you
the nurse says
no no
I say
just memories coming back
of some one I loved
who died
o sorry about that
she says
so much death these days
what with the War
and bombing
we had a lot in last night
when they bombed the docks
I say nothing
I pretend it is Clive
touching me
his hands moving
about my legs
and thighs
I sigh
and wipe my eyes.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 3:46 AM UTC