The Gwent

Through dirty glass the morning haze reveals
Pillgwenlly slumbering grey towards the sea
Where giant turbines grind like drab pin-wheels
Observed in dreadful solitude by me.

Oppressive heat surrounds me as I hear
The hissing of the mattress where you lie
Wide-eyed.  You watch me, helpless, full of fear.
I know the ‘Trust’ will simply let you die.

You see, at ninety, you’ve outlived the need
To test and scan, so they won’t diagnose.
They’ll take the drip and let infection breed.
They’ll call it cancer.  Really, no-one knows.

And I’ll sit near and watch you starve and thirst,
And try to bring relief to your nightmare.
With disbelief I’ll watch the Health Care Trust
Once more betray the aged in its care.