Skilled Care Unit

A Skilled Care Unit

Faces racked with pain,
no medicine can cure.
Sad and alone, no one
comes to visit.
Bedridden, confined to
wheelchairs, nowhere to go.
Pacing the halls, doors locked,
prisoners at the end of life.
Memories of laughter, family
outings, salt, sea air, cookouts.
All slowly fading now, freedom
lost to old age and infirmities.
Life condensed to a single room
with death the only escape.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Rigoler Avatar
February 5, 2025 at 6:55 PM
I too have written a couple of poems on this theme. I hope I die before I'm dumped in one of those homes! The last two lines of your poem is right on the mark,Oliver! – Maurice
Mckeithan Avatar
February 5, 2025 at 9:22 PM
Me too. I assist our church in a monthly service at a nursing home and when I was a practicing pharmacist I did work in some of them. Thanks Maurice
Dietrich Avatar
February 5, 2025 at 1:13 PM
this is so emotive, Oliver. A very good portrayal of the tragic last years of some older people that have nobody to care for them at home.
Mckeithan Avatar
February 5, 2025 at 1:26 PM
Yes it is. As a pharmacist I worked in some of them. It is tragic. Thanks for reading Andrea
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