Crabby old man.

I've cut the crap out'a this email. It ain't necessary.


"Crabby Old Man"

What do you see nurses? . . . .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . When you're looking at me?
A crabby 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's 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 . . . . . 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.
Tis jest to make 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 guy 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 crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . See ME!!
........................................................................
 
I read this one years ago.

It's something the very young, and those looking after the aged should read as a reminder that the elderly are more than just 'old people'.

So how old are you Sunfish :p.
 
A few years back I used to sell Avon.An elderly lady, who usually bought something, and I would talk a fair bit.She said some days she felt her age, but on lots of occassions she felt much younger (until she looked in the mirror)
I imigaine it must be like that for most people.
 
Thanks Sunfish, I like your poem. I lost my dear dad last year and your poem has reminded me to think about his full life and not focus on his ending.
Thanks.
 
I have seen that poem before but written about an old woman.

My mum is in a nursing home with advanced Alzheimers, and when I visit I see the person she used to be, not the person she is now, which is what the poem expresses.
Marg
 
These notes from people who have recently lost close family make me feel a little hard-hearted... sorry! :eek:
On a similar note, I hope my 'Green Eggs & Ham' comment was not taken in a way that would detract from the message of the original post.

Regards
Marty
 
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