My 91 year old mother-in-law lies in a Stroke Rehab Unit at the moment.  Three years ago she was ballroom dancing and doing countryside walks.  Five years ago she was playing tennis.  Yesterday was her birthday.  She is a shell of who she used to be.

 

A student nurse feeds Rosie a meal she didn’t choose

But Rosie’s thoughts are far away; she’s at The Moulin Rouge.

A chorus girl and dancer, bare breasted on the stage

And singling out a gentleman to supplement her wage.

 

The nurse is getting tetchy, she’s new upon the ward;

Rosie isn’t eating; the nurse is getting bored.

“She’s just a daft old woman” she’s thinking to herself

But Rosie’s life’s behind dull eyes; the nurse is in good health.

 

And Rosie’s now on duty puzzling codes at Bletchley Park

Of which she’s never spoken on work considered “dark”.

Then later years at Chequers; she’s now playing through her mind

Her role beyond the day job helping Harold to unwind.

 

The nurse clears up uneaten food and finishes her tasks

She doesn’t see behind those eyes; the nurse will never ask.

And moves on to the next bed where Ethel is asleep

She says, “Wake up now Rosie”; Ethel starts to weep.

 

But Rosie knows her span is through, there’s not much left to save

The untold stories of a life she’ll take into her grave.