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Medical Forum / Diseases and Disorders / Alzheimer's / March 2005

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A lovely poem

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Evelyn Ruut - 16 Mar 2005 16:27 GMT
Crabby Old Woman
     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 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, people,
      Open and see,
      Not a crabby old woman;
      Look closer . . . see ME!!

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Gwen Love - 17 Mar 2005 00:35 GMT
Yes lovely, and how true!
Gwen

> Crabby Old Woman
>       What do you see, nurses?
[quoted text clipped - 108 lines]
>
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ronny TX - 17 Mar 2005 06:36 GMT
Now that is a good,a very good poem! :-)
 
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