Wow – the penultimate challenge! Where did April go to?
That said, I am torn between thinking about how hard it has been to stay on track, at times, and delighted that I have managed to (just about…) keep up.
I always say that I intend to carry on writing, only to fail miserably within a day or two.
This year I am saying nothing but I was lucky enough to win the fiction prize at my University this week, totally out of the blue, and so it has made me think that maybe I do still actually have some kind of voice and should push myself to try something different and exciting. Watch this space!
Anyway, to the challenge: things I remember. Sorry, went a bit of a weird/depressing way and I know the line length/rhyme are iffy, but it’s the penultimate day! (oooh that rhymes too…)
I remember desperately wanting the cockerel egg cup:
our lives so focused on such minutiae, it held us spellbound.
The twilight of the ward, the never-darkness,
was lifted gently on a Sunday night, when all around,
even for non-believers, the lyre and Bible stories
offered comfort, peace – a temporarily welcome sound.
I literally fell out of bed one day, to reach a Popeye toy,
the bulk of plaster soon dragging me back down.
Ice cream, smuggled in, in plastic footballs,
helped to soothe the itchiness of cotton-wool
but never the routine of pink medicine and the inevitable sick-bowl.
Eventually I learned to walk again, each time harder than before.
Recovery always took longer, though my body strived for so much more.
Seems to me, I became one of the plastic toys on my table tray:
compelled to keep moving, being pulled painfully every which way.
And always, the merciless ledge – inexplicably stopping me at the edge.