Mum
She sits in her worn reclining arm chair
her chair that doubles as a bed
face full of pain, her heart full of despair
recalling the past, thoughts of dread,
photographs on out dated papered walls
memories of her past her achievements
now she's worrying about trips and falls
lost family members and bereavements,
television volume at maximum,
she lies there with eyes closed, mouth open wide,
yes this wonderful lady is my lovely mum,
how to spend her last days I must decide,
unable to care for herself, dignity lost
skin pale, sallow and wrinkled, hair white grey,
talks of her funeral about the cost,
can't tell her how I dread that awful day.
Copyright © Roy Pett | Year Posted 2017
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