Surrounded by colour

Cheery red and green wires dance together across the starched white sheets,
exploring the caverns made between the ripples
before separating.


The green smoothly shimmies under the red
and enters through the short sleeve with ease.
It splinters in two, and stops to
listen to the rumba of the heart.


The red tangos to the hand,
it dives, piercing the saggy skin and
is secured safety with itchy white tape.

More wires conga, one after another.
Desperate to touch and listen.

By the time I arrive
you are surrounded by colour.
More wire than man.
You look like you have shrunk.
Grown pale.
You seem old, frail,
helpless.
Not the strong wise man
whose feet I sat at when I was child, eager to hear
tales of strange foreign countries,
wild creatures and warm rain.

I'm thankful for the beat the wires dance to
but I can't help wondering what will happen when it stops.