Cranky Old Man
I couldn’t resist putting the following poem out there—Sent by Hadai Pandit of Vancouver. The author’s name is not mentioned.
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 a shoe?
Who, resisting or not…let 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 an old age… look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles…grace and vigor 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 remembered 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 except the stark fact…that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people…open and see.
Not a cranky old man.
Look closer… see…… ME!!!
Please share this poem.
The best and most beautiful things of this world can’t be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart!
May the Source be with you!