While You Rest
I can’t heal you
but I will mow the lawn,
my wobbly lines
a shaky imitation of yours,
pay bills and manage the accounts
– I’ll go as far as online banking if I must! –
learn to shave you by practising
on balloons with foam,
wind Grandfather’s clock every Sunday,
endeavour to keep the oil tank topped up,
wear the turquoise and white top you say
brings back sun-soaked days on Bermuda beaches,
develop a car maintenance repertoire
beyond looking to see the tyres are still up,
stop nagging when you snore – instead,
turn you gently to your side,
keep batteries close by for when
the torchlight splutters out.
And then there’s football:
I’ll even follow football if it helps.
If you have any comments on this poem, Nicky Philips
would be pleased to hear from you.