Writers Block

I wake again in our bedroom, vouchsafed another day,

‘Vouchsafed’ is a verb, or so it seems; that’s all I know of what it means.

But if I guess I might be wrong, the story might become too long.

Despite my age I am no sage my ignorance might waste this page.

Go look it up but there’s a twist – I cannot move without its gist.


My wife of many years wakes up. She looks at me I’m frozen stuck.

I am still groggy she assumes; her normal ritual resumes.

She draws the shade; she puts on cloths; she rubs my nose – It seems that I am  comatose.

‘Can you hear me dear’ she asks; her voice so tense it croaks and rasps.


I can’t confess under duress, which tantalizes her distress.

She grabs the phone and calls real quick ‘my husband’s stiffer than a brick!’

‘Is he cold and blue, or warm and breathing? Are you sure that he’s not sleeping?’

‘His eyes are open’ she replies tears are welling in her eyes.


The sirens come and then the engine, the yellow one, a sign from heaven.

Bill and Jack are dressed in black; they come with their survival pack.

They are well-built and reassuring; if all was normal, quite alluring.

They take my pulse, they watch me breath: ‘He’s stable ma’am just hold on, please.’


Then the ambulance arrives, its crew determined to save lives.

There are two of them as well, Leonor and Isabel.

All four in boots, with radios – they stand there tickling my toes.

They check my kidneys, liver, spleen; my heart is metered on the screen.


My heart is ticking nice and strong, a sinus regular and long.

They are perplexed with my condition ‘perhaps he has a drug addiction?’

Bill looks up and clears his throat ‘Has he left you with a note?’

‘There is that page; he made some signs; it doesn’t say much, just two lines’


Around the page they congregate to see if they can guess my fate,

‘Vouchsafed’, they read, ‘why it is clear for all to see that this has got to be the key.’

‘But we have never heard this word before’ moan Bill and Jack and Leonor,

‘It means to grant’ Isabel chimes, ‘I hope that gets us off the dime.’


Before another word is said I am erect and out of bed,

Nature calls I must respond, I rush outside to the fishpond,

I lean relaxed against a tree; It is a great relief to pee

Our day could well have gone to hell had it not been for Isabel.


With my bladder back to normal, I gain composure, acting formal,

Pulling up my underpants, I shake my saviors’ strong right hands,

‘Grant’ is what it means she said; that’s all it is

and we are saved.