I have had the idea of adding a favourite line from from a Dylan song before my poem or story, this one is from Idiot Wind, from the album Blood On The Tracks. “You close your eyes and pout your.lips, and pull your fingers from you glove, you can have the best there is, but it will cost you all your love, you won’t get it for money” Bob Dylan.
Not 100% sure it’s “Pout”, maybe it’s “part” I prefer it to be the former.

Ok, now for my amateurish offering, which kind of follows on from my last “Hands.

              Spirits

 
   Blue flame, blue flame, that was all I could see,

Blue flame, blue flame, enveloping me.

   Blood and pain, blood and pain, like hot acid rain,

   As I descended to hell never to come back again.

   Down a black tunnel I spun and I fell,

   Then a white light appeared could this really be Hell?

    Then I lie on a bed surrounded by love,

 This wasn’t Hell,  I’d been lifted above!

                   Now I’m not religious, so it couldn’t be true,

                   But how to explain these spirits in grey, white and blue.

                   They tended my wounds, and eased all my fears,

                   I hadn’t felt this peace for hundreds of years.

                   An elegant black man he danced round the floor,

                   An old friend was there, I’d never met before.

                   A saint and an angel they floated around,

                   What were they? What were they these spirits I’d found?

                   Day and night,  night and day to my needs they tended,

                   Love and care, love and care, their patience never ended.

                   As the dawn broke on me, as to what I had done,

                   My undying gratitude those nurses had won.