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The Care Home

Stuart Butler

Thursday, April 6th, 2006

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I went on my own to visit the care home,
To see my mum, aged 91;
Someone singing “Downtown” when I got there,
A depiction of Swindon’s cupboard-bare
Season, where no rhyme or reason
Can seemingly save them from the drop.
I stand the whole time of my stop,
(About the length of half a game,
All injury time in all but name)
Having done my back in –
I stand and grin
And make fractured conversation,
While my deaf mum smiles in jubilation,
Pleased to speed the time along
With a visit from her youngest son,
Mixing past and present in a timeless track
(Until she blows the whistle,
Loud and shrill,
Fatigue overcoming Mind and Will)
“Now don’t you go playing football with that back”.
Forgetting the fact
That I’m nearly 55;
And so with saddened heart,
We kiss and part
And I depart at 11.45,
50 years younger than when I arrived.

© stuart butler

Notes

a few notes jotted on the train, trying to make sense of it all.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-care-home/