Tears At My Age
For all the tears we’ve wept, for all of those we’ve lost.
We’ll weep again some more, as we’re told we matter not.
You know they will not say it, but it’s there within their eyes.
The old and frail aren’t welcome, as they’re steadily pushed aside.
If you don’t believe me, then at a party get up as if to dance.
Mouths will gawk and eyes will roll as they come to set us back.
They’ll act like we’re so shameful, as we laugh, and have some fun.
Then they’ll come to guide us to a chair somewhere in the background.
Our wisdom isn’t needed; they’re far too superior for that.
They can’t respect the old ones' thoughts, who're out of date, in fact.
Of course they want our money, and will gladly scope out our homes.
And they want us to beleaguer ourselves so they can go happily on.
But where is the regard that they say our age is due…
Too often it’s in a distant Nursing home no one will ever drive to.
This is dedicated to all those lost souls left in Nursing Homes whom no one
ever visits.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
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