Old Fogies: Part I

During the day there's a deceptive lull in the staid common parlor when the home seems deadly dull Stale air, disinfectant and potpourri stirred only by the worried, hurried strides of harried nurses down hectic halls stuffy efficiency personified In contrast to those, the steady repose of regular residents dressed up and posed as odd antique mannequins in fusty old clothes like some bizarre storefront window display Obsolete, old folks like aged birds perch lean and lurch awkward and angular nodding and napping half-waking, flapping on various arm chairs Others like basset hounds lay the room 'round eyes shut, drooping jowls intermittent gentle growls little subtle snores comfy and carefree bodies drowsily draped over the sides of settees Insensible to sound and drooling a bit sweetly sleeping all throughout like innocent toddlers with cookie-smeared faces ingenuous and all played out Then eventually, nursing staff bustles them awake for activities, dinner more medicines to take... Then off to bed as visitors leave deluded and deceived thinking that's all there is pitiful old people, tragically perceived