I peer outside the hospital glass, 
Daisies interrupting the green 
Which catches the eyes of everyone left— 
Healthy or hurting, or somewhere in between. 
 
I'm whisked away to Neverland 
So fast that I lose my breath, 
And just like that I'm six again, 
So far from thoughts of death. 
 
I go to buy some bread—just a piece. 
I give a ten-pound bill. 
In turn, she leads me to a feast, 
A ten-something person meal. 
 
I realize then a simple fact: 
That money here goes a long way, 
Just like when I was six years old 
When fifty pence was all that I could pay. 
 
Ready for tea time, I check my treasure— 
The fifty-pence loaf, smothered in brie. 
I look at Big Ben to check the time; 
Oh lords, it only struck three! 
 
So I wait and wait, it's only an hour, 
though a hundred is what I feel. 
It takes me back to when I was six, 
To classrooms where time stood still. 
 
As I bite into my bread, I smell 
A faint and familiar scent. 
The odor of cigars, I can tell, 
Came, and then, it went. 
 
But suddenly I'm overcome 
By a terrible coughing fit. 
Blood mingles with breadcrumbs 
Which come out, by way of spit. 
 
This doesn't remind me of my youth, 
For I was a healthy kid. 
Instead I remember what is my truth: 
I lie in this infirmary, God forbid. 
 
I know my days are numbered, 
So I reminisce 
The golden times that I enjoyed 
When I was simply six.