The h2g2 Poem
Created | Updated Jul 7, 2004
'I wrote this poem about my father
who is terminally ill with a disease called
Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP)'
- Woodpigeon 
He lies there still
In a warm, dark room
Eyes are moving
In a prison of bone
A once great man
Now withered and thin
His humours of life
Have faded and gone
Is it tomorrow?
He must be thinking…
Was this his wish
For the last ten years?
All has stopped now
Save a heart beating coldly
A heart with no 'passion'
No heed for his tears.
How I wish
Things were different
How I long for
That spark in his eye
How I feel for
That man I once knew
That man who loved me
Waiting to die.
