Get out the tissues

          
 When an old lady died in  the geriatric ward of a small hospital
near Dundee, Scotland, it was felt  that she had nothing left of any
value.
 Later, when the nurses were going  through her meager
possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and  content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to  every nurse in the hospital.
 One nurse took  her copy to Ireland. The old  lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition  of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health.
 A  slide presentation has also been made based on her simple,
 but eloquent,  poem. ...And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet.
 Goes to show that we all leave "Some footprints in time".....

                               An  Old Lady's poem
 What do you see, nurses, what do you see
   What are you  thinking when you're looking at me?
 A crabby old woman, not very wise,
 Who dribbles her 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 stocking 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 girl of sixteen,  with wings on her feet,
       Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.

      A bride 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 woman 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 man'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 husband is 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 woman ...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 girl 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, nurses, open and see,
 ...Not a  crabby old woman; look closer ...see ME!!
.....Remember this poem when  you next meet an old person who
 you might brush aside without looking at the  young soul within.
 ..... We will one day be there, too!

 

 SHARE THIS  POEM.........
 ITS SOMETHING WE ALL NEED TO REMEMBER