He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.
And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them… “how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings”
The corridor is dark and narrow, the visit is important but stressful, the hospital is out of Dickens. He holds me by the hand and the grey is changed to colour, the dim lights are bright as if he shines a pure silvery blue beam around us as we walk. There is more air and space than there could be inside a building. The queue is quiet but he smiles and teases because he knows all the answers. At the bedside he is still there and the circus music plays taking the edge off any sorrow. He smiles, we smile, he smiles – hard to stop a snigger because he knows all the answers. Wink and a nod, da, da, da-da-da! The lift is tiny but he makes it a tardis and even in the wet night London is flowering. We don’t leave him in the street; no, he comes home with us in the car!