Prose Poetry: In my wheelchair!

In My Wheelchair!



I sit here in my wheelchair.

From my little window,

I look out on the World.

Outside, I can see.

Bright coloured birds.

They’re in the leafy tree tops close by.

Happily darting to and thro’.

I can see the sky.

It is a brilliant blue with fluffy clouds.

They look just like cotton wool.

I am extremely lucky with my view.

I can see over the rooftops.

There’s a well kept park, far below.

From my high vantage point,

There is always scenes of interest.

I can see children at play.

They have toy boats in a pond.

Others run happy, playing the fool.

Mothers, Fathers, Guardians, watch from park benches.

Oh, how I envy those children.

Being able to actually run and play.

I can’t hear their happy voices from here though.

I feel like a spy sometimes.

Watching their childish antics.

They do such funny things.

They never look up here though.

They can’t see me.

But I can see them.

I hope they wouldn’t mind me looking.

I feel like a Voyeur on life sometimes.

But I don’t exist really do I?

Here in my little room.

Not in anyone’s mind at least.

Well I suppose I better get some rest.

Now what was it Doctor said?

Take two green pills and one red?

Or was that two red and one green?

Where are my glasses damn it?

Oh! does it really matter that much?

What the hell!

Too bad!

What’s gonna’ happen if I take the wrong ones?

Will I end up in a wheelchair?

Hehehehehehe Hahahahahahaha!

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Regards

Retro