Visits

He comes to visit twice a week He only stays a little while He tries to talk to hold his hand He knows you can't understand Dad sits in his wheelchair Looking out the window Daydreaming of being free Looking to see what ever there is To see Just not looking for me His mind has left him His body is weak He is a fragile old soul His spirit is meek He doesn't know me Or anyone at all He searches For the past In his heart What was first Remains last I hold his hand He clings to mine He mumbles and stares into the air I brush his balding head With my hand I wish I could stay longer But Dad doesn't know I see him for me I see him for me I'm his host and he my guest Just for seconds A minute or so His eyes see me His face smiles recognition I smile and close my hand Into his Thank you Dad for your visit It was good to be with you again I wish we had longer But I really must go This place is nice They take good care of him So twice a week I see him there And I hope He visits me Visits