Poorly Grandpa

It’s you,
But not you,
And it scares me like hell.
They say you’ll be fine,
That your kidney’s unwell.
In a man of your age,
That can do funny things
But I’m gripped with concern
And the panic this brings.

You look like a boy,
Wrapped in blankets,
Confused
Thin and frail,
With no sparkle,
No longer amused.
You have shrunk
Whilst you’ve been
In your hospital bed;
But the stories
Loom large
In your out-of-sorts head.

You tell me of cyanide,
And plots on your life,
Then you tell me
You’ve chatted with
Your (10 years passed) wife.
I hold you
And soothe you
And help you to calm.
Then I head to my car
And weep into my palms.