We too will be old one day
By Rhiannonw
- 1216 reads
Stories pouring,
boring,
recycled once more,
repeatedly pour:
heavy chore –
listen, smile,
in a while
try to find
a way that’s kind,
to stop the flow
interject with tact
an answer or interesting fact
quickly, to distract:
sometimes success,
sometimes no impact,
thoughts in a groove,
hard to move,
your answer forgotten,
round and round,
same old ground.
At least today it’s not a worry,
or grievance bitter
from when he was fitter –
memories confused and in disarray,
anger astray.
I hope they’ll be patient
if I’m incoherent
one day, lost mind, –
will they be kind?
may I never hoard hate,
belligerent state,
but be placid, content
though my words cascade
– memories stored,
outpoured,
relatives bored.
- Log in to post comments
Comments
I like this poem. In fact
- Log in to post comments
Hi Rhiannon
Hi Rhiannon
I think the whole poem works well together - and knowing your in-law situation, I expect that what you are describing is only too true a situation. I too, worry about how I will become when I am older, and hope my kids will deal with my kindly - as I'm sure they will.
My sister, that I went to visit in Portland last summer, has had another stroke, and is the hospital, and the family has been told she now needs 24 hour care. But she is very well served by her five children.
Jean
- Log in to post comments