He would have liked

He would have liked a day in the sun,
he would have liked to stand up and run
with quick easy strides to the seats he
saw by the chestnut trees on the lawn
seat himself in a cacophony of
unrestrained sound drink in its bounty.

He would have liked to turn back the
clock to when he did not think this way
was young and unafraid of tomorrow
whole and not living with death. He
counted the limbs but could not
progress beyond the two he had lost.

He would have liked to discard his chair
the wheels too stiff for his hands
his feeble protests unheard by deaf
ears damped with demands he learn to
be independent to accept his infirmity
to thank the fates he lived.

He would have liked to have died at the
scene amid carnage and blood
the wreckage the screams. He would
have liked to have died before it began
the ignominy the pain it would
have seemed more noble than this.
© I.D. Carswell