A commercial old time piece with no fancy chime

Bland pastel colours on walls of beige and off white

Dimmed fluorescent lighting so there’s never any night

Employees in uniforms forever coming and going

With their rubber soled shoes and whispers so knowing

Buttons raise and lower my bed and a last minute help line

A John Gresham book in my hands just trying to kill time

I know every creak every noise, every voice in the dark

I know who can give needles that don’t bite like a shark

I’ve been washed and shaved and medicated for sure

That big clock strikes the hour it’s drawing neat four

The cries and the whimpers of those souls lost to pain

The bleeps and the blips of some mechanical main frame

Take a sip of my water now grown tepid and warm,

Lay aside my book and wait with dread for the morn

I hear the gurney approaching like a man on death row

My past flashed before me in images that flow

Bravely I smile though inside I just pray I’ll survive

As they roll me away that old clock clings to the five.