The View From The Hospital Window

I hear the footsteps and the chatter, the general buzz as life goes on,
I read about the weddings and the funerals and the babies being born,
I only ever see world events through the social media screen,
The view from the hospital window is my personal TV.

Three square meals segment my days, every hour I get blood taken,
At night my sleep is interrupted by laughter from the nurses station.
I like to hear about their days when the doctors do their rounds,
The view from the hospital window is so familiar to me now.

“Chronic”, a misunderstood word, queried in well meaning texts,
“When you are all better, what will you do next?”
There is no real “better”, just hope for a new level of “okay”,
The view from the hospital window gives me strength for another day.

The most personal things of all are experienced in this microcosm,
The grief of lives being lost next to the new lives as they blossom…
Then there’s the anxious waiting, so much grey area to survive,
The view from the hospital window gives silent snapshots of this life.

When you’re in and out so often eventually the flowers stop arriving,
But long ago this routine went from living to surviving.
Most of the time I get on fine, sometimes I feel a little hollow,
The view from the hospital window leads to places I cannot follow.

I like to read about peoples journeys, all the dreams that they achieve,
There’s comfort in knowing the tapestry of life is still being woven around me-
Even if I’m just a voyeur, even if that’s all I’ll ever be,
The view from the hospital window, at least you let me see.