Trolley Dolly
By Heather Haywood
I’ve been Dolly with the Trolley for nearly sixty years
But the place that it now takes me is beyond me darkest fears
I’m Dolly on the Trolley and they called it number twelve
Abandoned behind curtains and straining every nerve
I’ve pushed every inch of corridor since the day I walked from school
Day after day I shoved it round just like a stubborn mule
The only place I haven’t pushed it is where I’m headed now
And I’m terrified to go there - there’s sweat across my brow
When first I pushed my trolley I was with my buddy Mary Lou
And we pushed and pulled together and handed out our brew
Our trolley was a moving feast with treats stacked to the top
And we spread some cheer around the wards till our legs just had to stop
We swept some tablets in the bin, tipped medicine in the flowers
Counting every smile we raised to pass the shift’s long hours
Then Mary Lou got married and I was left to push the trolley on me own
And I missed me sparkly soulmate but decided not to moan
I poured teas by day and toddies with the medicine round at night
Until one morning I could see me own eyes were not quite right
The white coated doctor was concerned about me liver
And after that there was no booze on me trolley to deliver
Then when I started coughing and said I didn’t feel that well
They made me stop me smoking and me trolley had no ciggies left to sell
Having given up the booze and fags I began to get quite stout
But cutbacks came and then the cakes were quietly left out
And when I started getting breathless and tight across my chest
They stopped the full cream milk saying semi-skimmed was best
There was little left on me trolley after sugar got the chop
Just tea in plastic cups, scant memory of me moving shop
But today the trolley felt real heavy as I pushed that final round
And then I fell when leaving work and slumped onto the ground
Me leg won’t move, me speech is slurred, I’m shivering with fear
But they scraped me up with Oh such care and found a trolley near
I’m Dolly on the Trolley and they called it number twelve
Abandoned behind curtains and straining every nerve
I’d like someone to come and pour me a cup of tea
But there’s no-one else to do that, there was only ever me
And now they’ve left me lying, I might be here all night
I’m scared of being Dolly on her trolley and completely out of sight.
Written Word ‘Heart’ poems