The IV Waltz

In Magical Hospital, on the sixth floor,

where patients lie in ones and twos.

Inside their boxes with very wide doors,

they remain static quite unmoved

or pad around on the shiny floor

of the extremely wide, corridor

until the time of visits begin.

And the boxes fill up and begin to sing

with laughing loud supporting sounds

or cheering purrs for those who’re down.

But in the depth of night when all

is dark and night-nurses sleep.

On hinges so oiled they never squeak

doors open and patients come to the ball

shepherding around their IV stands

with the pipes dripping life into their hands.

The patients commence the party-time mingle,

tubes carefully entwined to avoid any tangle.

They take their places in tubed-up twos

and waltz down the corridor on silent shoes.

Slippered feet skim across the cool ground

castors spin them around and around.

The alarm is raised, a night-nurse has stirred!

The patients scatter like frightened birds

leaving the hallway without any trace

Whispered promises, ‘Same time, same place.’