What a sweet old man
such a kindly lady
that’s so sad
we sometimes think those things when referring to the elder infirmed
while we enjoy unrestrained mobility
their world is changing
their freedom fading

these history makers look out their window and remember what they once dreamed
what they once accomplished
what they once experienced

yet now the hours turn slowly
life’s not the same
food doesn’t taste like it use to
laying down at night is a lonesome moment
living even more

familiar faces fall victim to the actuarial tables
memory wanes
redundant questions imply a creeping debility
waiting marks their days
despite our best intentions
they wait
always waiting
waiting for meals
waiting for visitors
waiting for calls

simple tasks become increasingly difficult and frustrating
privileges like driving a car are taken from them. transitioning
existing more as a changeling

they want to tell the doctor how they feel
but they don’t hear well and the conversation is difficult
it’s perplexing to be in the same room and hear their children speak for them in absentia

They have long since given up engaging in group conversation
or any conversation for that matter
there is an angst in their psyche that we can’t fully grasp
for slowly
they are disappearing
but for family
caring friends
or the music of a child’s voice


A poem by Greg Nelson
© 2022 by Poppie’s Hallel
(BMI. Admin. by Amplified Administration)

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