Reflections on a Wall
(1975-76)

The sun's first light with a deep orange glow

Touched the old man's window

And bathed the room with warm russet tones,

Gently bringing the old man from his slumber.

Easing himself with the small motion

That his paralysis allowed, he gazed at the

Wall and reflected.

And found that he despised the beauty

And splendours of the day,

For, sentenced to live the rest of his life

In that one room, he looked to the night

With joy and to the day with dread.

He drifted idly across the golden waves

Of morning,

And floated aimlessly on the somnolent, silken seas

Of afternoon.

But as the day drew to a close,

And the sun fringed the sky with amber twilight

And the old man's body fell into a torpid sleep,

His spirits rose.

And braced with the vigour and valour of youth

He wandered athletic and unrestricted

In his mind's fantasy.

And yet, as the night drew to a close,

And the sun gently touching the window awoke

The old man,

He fell into the lethargic and apathetic

Existence of day.