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Beautiful poem

post #1 of 5
Thread Starter 
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.

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, uncertain of habit,
with faraway eyes?

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 vigour 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, people, 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!
post #2 of 5
Wow! That is insightful-thanks for sharing it.
post #3 of 5
You know, that landed in my Inbox yesterday.
post #4 of 5
It's a very nice poem. I'm sending it to a friend who works with the elderly and he needs something like this!
post #5 of 5
Awwww, that sure indeed is beautiful. Thanks for sharing brought a tear to me eye.
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