In hospital beds gentle ones lie and wait,
On corridors angry ones rage and demand to go home.
Infirm old age forfeits choice, its fate.


Puckered lips that water cannot sate
Hands that, trembling, grasp the feeding bowl.
In hospital beds gentle ones lie and wait.


He paces his last days at our dictate
And asks us strangers - “Where can I go?”
Infirm old age forfeits choice, its fate.


Her fingers pluck the bedspread, castigate
Indignity, regrets she can’t disown.
In hospital beds gentle ones lie and wait.


“The needle pricks, you know I’m ninety eight
Why can’t you people just leave me alone.”
Infirm old age forfeits choice, its fate.


Conspirators, in fear, we instigate
Trickery that thwarts the final stone.
In hospital beds gentle ones lie and wait,
Infirm old age forfeits choice, its fate.