The Caller

Lying there waiting hour by hour

in hope that the certain may change

among callers and carers moments pass

as one secretly desires some exchange

The visitor calls with nothing to say

finding rhythm by drumming on knees

humming along to invisible tunes

feeling bankrupt whilst trying to please

Though it slows down the moments

the caller reflects images of personal pain

a visit devalued by self interest’s defeat

forcing silence to scream once again

When visiting the sick and desperately ill leave duty in the trash can outside. If when you arrive you have nothing to say 

then at least avoid platitudes like: “And how are we today?”