An Old Man Like Me
Who pays attention to an old man like me,
my hearing is gone and I barely can see.
So much wisdom I could give to thee,
who pays attention to an old man like me.
The breeze softly brushes across my face as I sit on the balcony,
I ask the nurse for a cup of tea.
She leads me back to my room so routinely,
who pays attention to an old man like me...
Copyright © Christine Vancooney | Year Posted 2006
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