<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A Few Words<\/strong><\/p>\n She removed her coat and folded it over her lap as she sat down. She continued to look at the page. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ian Osler<\/strong> has worked in research, international sales and marketing and ineducation. He has a poem included in the anthology\u00a0 Click of Time \u2013Reflections on the Digital Age\u00a0<\/em> and prose published in the online literary magazine ken*again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A Few Words She removed her coat and folded it over her lap as she sat down. \u2018How are you today Leo?\u2019 He pushed against the mattress with both fists, two pillows supporting his back as he reached a more or less seated position. \u2018I\u2019m alright,\u2019 he gasped. \u2018I\u2019ve been reading.\u2019 \u2018You […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7214","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7214","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7214"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7214\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7217,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7214\/revisions\/7217"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7214"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7214"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7214"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\u2018How are you today Leo?\u2019
\nHe pushed against the mattress with both fists, two pillows supporting his
\nback as he reached a more or less seated position. \u2018I\u2019m alright,\u2019 he
\ngasped. \u2018I\u2019ve been reading.\u2019
\n\u2018You and your reading; if you\u2019d done less of that and taken more exercise
\nyou might not be lying there now.\u2019
\nHe smiled. \u2018I\u2019ve written something.\u2019
\nHe leaned away from her and reached across to a bedside table, where books
\nand sheets of paper were piled in no apparent order.
\nShe looked down to the side of the bed and examined the grey cardboard pan
\nof his toilet. It was moulded to the shape of a household lavatory bowl
\nand she wondered if that was some attempt to make patients feel at home.
\nLeo turned back, out of breath, and let his arms rest. \u2018Here it is,\u2019 he said.
\nShe edged forward and took the sheet of paper from his left hand,
\nexpecting a list of things to be done, things he\u2019d forgotten to do, things
\nthat would need sorting out.
\n\u2018What\u2019s this, a poem?\u2019
\n\u2018I suppose it is.\u2019
\n\u2018You wrote this?\u2019
\n\u2018Yes, will you read it to me?\u2019
\nShe hesitated. His breathing sounded more comfortable.
\n\u2018Later. I\u2019ve brought you a newspaper and some chocolates. Wouldn\u2019t you
\nlike a chocolate?\u2019
\nHe let the back of his head rest against the uppermost pillow. \u2018Please;
\nread it to me.\u2019
\n\u2018Well, alright,\u2019 she said, with some attempt at enthusiasm.
\nShe coughed and glanced around the room, as if there was a wider audience.
\n\u2018A Sense of Promise\u2019 she read, \u2018by Leo Siran.\u2019
\nShe coughed again.
\n\u2018The future sings
\nAlong a tunnel tightened
\nTo his girth, that grew
\nBefore the notes were sighted.
\nNow that shell, surrounding, cracks
\nAnd he can clearly hear the song.\u2019<\/p>\n
\n\u2018What does it mean Leo?\u2019 she asked, before lifting her head and watching
\nhim stare at the ceiling.<\/p>\n