Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . . . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . . . . when you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . . with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . .. . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . .. . .. ‘I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . . . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . . . . . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not .. . . . . . . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? . . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . . you’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am . . . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . .. as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . . . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . . . . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . . . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . . . .. . .. a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. . . . . . that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . … . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . . . . .. My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . .. . .. . With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . . . . . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, . . . . . . ..Babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . . .. . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future … . . . . . . . . . . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . .. . . . . And the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man .. . . . . . . . . and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. . . . … . . . . . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone … . . . . .. . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . . . .. A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . .. . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . .. . . . . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. life over again.
I think of the years . all too few . . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . . . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man . Look closer . . . . see . . . . . .. . ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush
aside without looking at the young soul within . . . . . we will all, one day, be there, too!