Wheelchair
The wheelchair sits alone for now
His duty is complete.
He’s helped a soul, and now will wait
Till someone takes a seat.
Perhaps a child, immature
Will role around for fun.
Or someone old, who knows each breath
Might be their final one.
A mother soon to be, who’s child
Longs to see the light;
Or just a teenage boy who lost
All hope late in the night.
The wheelchair helps with no resent,
But always wonders why
The patients leave and never give
A thank you, or goodbye.
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