Roses in Hospital

Roses in Hospital

As he lay there in green
IV lines drip saline
and glucose through his veins

where they’d dripped before
giving hope to a man aged
by pain. The nurse in white

draped tinsel on his nametag
and antiseptic
scented the air, knotted

with garden roses
that stood in a lone jar
on a body-wide window ledge.

Dust-smeared panes
overlooked the ward,
the concrete car park

and the road he will travel tomorrow.
His drugged eyes
held mine for a time

while memories swam
between thermometer
and undertaking.