True Patient Why is it that when you walk along hospital hallways time seems to be in a standstill? Silence skims the walls and heartbeats mellow in calm, anesthetic air. The air-con and the fans hum in acoustic melancholy. Whites and greens abound although red is the days motif. Heavy leather and wheelchairs whisper, cautious not to bother the minds at rest. Here where bodies come and go real kindness exists. Memory is the true patient here. It lies there reminiscing the suns and the moons, the alleys and lagoons where it has felt loves true meaning. Along these hallways it has remembered long enough. Until finally, with the consent of the watchful angels above, it cherishes its last.
Posted on: Mon, 24 Mar 2014 09:14:12 +0000
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