(I have just had a heart pacemaker fitted. Invited in, operated on and discharged inside 24 hours)
It marked walkers passing for seventy years
But been a bit stiff as of late;
For once it swung free
And closed easily
But now it’s an old creaking gate.
But Time can regenerate Glory again
By dint of the old craftsman’s care;
With tools of his trade
His miracles made
Long lasting and skilful repair.
The well-worn old latch would no longer catch
And home with a snap into place
But with skill well rehearsed
Its action was nursed back
To smooth and effortless grace.
Its posts and its rails had rotted and failed
And useless as they first appeared;
But the sharp surgeon’s knife
Extended its life,
Gifting it many more years.
Their movement impinged, each loose iron hinge
Had rusted from years in the rain
But through doctors’ toil
And liberally oiled
It no longer groaned in its pain.
The once proud red paint was now peeled and faint;
The whole seemed resigned to its fate
But craftsmen redeemed
Its vigour; it seemed
No longer an old creaking gate.
When I came to pay, “We’re not USA”
Said the tradesman, “There isn’t a fee”
You see how we’re blessed
With our NHS
The service is all done for free.