Bill Albert 1942-2020

nevermore

​

oh the things

I could do in the snow

slipping, laughing ...

if I wasn't

paralysed

 

slipping, laughing

as my wheelchair glides

through the snow

overhead red kites soar

above field mice tracks 

 

a white world

on the other side

of my window

I long to go out

and make tracks in the snow 

 

the log fire roars

I imagine twin tracks

in the snow

cold wheelchair dance

while me? fireplace warm

 

shivering

in the falling snow

I catch a glimpse

of firelight through a window

and knock at your door

 

ghostly tapping

soft at my front door

could it be

the raven of yore?

no, a crip, nothing more

​

Joy McCall/Bill Albert