Yesterday, before we planned the future,
I watched you scan the room
and discretely re-arrange it
to make his wheelchair entry as smooth as your own.
As the room talked,
you led the listening to him
and planted your thoughts on the borders
of his lifetime garden.
At some signal I did not see,
the two of you left and returned as one,
either having been to the toilet
or to visit the Queen.
At lunch, you invited me to sit with you
and share his jokes
and learn that food can be thereabouts
and still sustain.
That night, I recited my mantra,
‘To plan is to cease to be a victim’,
but as I lay there sleepless in the dark
I heard myself whistling.
In the morning, I arrived before everyone else,
so I could clear his pathway
and laughed as he rolled in, without you,
waving his plan like a flag of independence.