Thread by @Inadarkwood

Here's a poem about hospital, by fifteen year old Brian Geary. The illustration is by Susie Jenkin-Pearce.

'A quick rush for the play area, but/your mother's firm hand pressing on your shoulder/automatically suggesting no.'

Alt text: Hospital by Brian Geary. An illustration of a boy whizzing down a corridor in a wheelchair is above the poem. The poem reads:

'The white walls, echoing, lonely corridors/Seem unwelcoming for a caring place./The staring nurses and patients,/The abrupt and brief talk with the lean/Lady behind reception, her glasses distorting the reflections/of the gathering place./

'A quick rush for the playing area, but/your mother's firm hand pressing on your shoulder/automatically suggesting no./The sitting down on a hard red chair, still/Warm, with the shape of the previous person still/embedded./

'The harsh, 'Next one please,' that turns out/to be all right, for doctor with the/Most warming smile says:/'And what's wrong with you then?'

I love that chair, too: 'The sitting down on a hard red chair, still/Warm, with the shape of the previous person still/embedded.'