Tag Archives: aging

Waiting for What’s Next

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All say, “How hard it is that we have to die” — a strange complaint to come from the mouths of people who have had to live. ~Mark Twain, American writer

The smell assaults you as you walk in the door:
A blend of disinfectant, urine, and more.
Step into the world of an old folks’ home.

Balding men with once-gray hair
Slump untended in their wheelchair.
Step into the world of an old folks’ home.

Wearing expressions of sadness and gloom
As if they’re gazing into the mouth of a tomb.
Step into the world of an old folks’ home.

Women on walkers in faded clothes;
Thick droopy stockings covering their toes.
Step into the world of an old folks’ home.

Vacant eyes stare straight into space;
Few signs remain of their former grace.
Step into the world of an old folks’ home.

Aging is part of life on this earth.
Shouldn’t we do more to preserve someone’s worth
Than tuck them away, out of sight, out of mind?
To me that’s awful and far from kind.
Letting them vegetate until at last they die.
Waiting for time and life to slip by.

Adult diapers and shapeless sweats,
Hearing aids, oxygen, and thin blankets.
Step into the world of an old folks’ home.

Calling for help and no one shows up.
Staff overworked; hard to catch up.
Step into the world of an old folks’ home.

Hoping for a visit from friends or their kids,
A basket of goodies the doctor forbids.
Step into the world of an old folks’ home.

People live longer these days, I know,
But longer isn’t better, some cases show.
Alone and lonely is no way to live,
Not when all people have something to give.
There’s no easy answer, everyone agrees,
But can’t we at least try to solve it? Please?

Weathering the Years

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In youth the days are short and the years are long; in old age the years are short and the days long. ~Nikita Ivanovich Panin, Russian statesman

My neighbor doesn’t seem to sleep
His light comes on at four.
Sometimes outside the blinds I peep
And watch him pace the floor.

Behind his walker off he rolls
Back and forth and back.
His carpet must be filled with holes
At least in one small track.

He turns the TV on at five
And thus it stays all day.
Surely not a man alive
Can tolerate that sway.

He used to go to work, I guess,
Made time to have some fun,
Read a book, played some chess,
Chauffeured daughter and son.

I know he used to mow the lawn,
Raked leaves and blew the snow.
Now he seems to greet the dawn
With television show.

He doesn’t put on makeup
No breakfast does he cook.
So why this early wake up
From his quiescent nook?

I guess the older that we get
The more we know for sure
Our time, no matter how we fret,
On earth is never sure.

We think we’re busy when we’re kids
We’re always on the go.
When old age comes we’re on the skids
And life becomes real slow.

Note: Part true; part fictionalized. You can guess, if you’d like, which is which, but I’m not telling, in deference to those described!