Dregs

I’m not all there today.
I catch some of what they say
‘could be months’
but it’s not making sense.
I’m holding on to something,
my knees I think, gripping
them as I try to sit up.
Now I’m being handed a cup.
What’s it for? Tea?
Tea for two? Tea for me?
Do I take milk and sugar?
Do I? I’m not sure.
I’ll need to think about that.
I want to shout out: ‘Twat!’
‘Shit!’ ‘Bugger!’
But don’t. ‘No milk. No sugar,’
I think I say. I’m
doing OK. I’m coping with tea time.
Ugh! It’s sweet and milky.
It won’t kill me.
Or will it? Am I on my last legs?
I drink it all down. Even the dregs.