The old man on my nursing shift,
held my hand with such a grip.
We both knew he was at death's door.
Would see his kith and kin no more.
I called for the priest, so ironic.
For a Prodestant, not such a tonic.
The rest of the patients slept sound.
While this old man was heaven bound.
His chest rattled, his breathing deep.
How better to depart while still asleep.
I softly spoke, said "Don't be afraid."
Not long after, he was in his grave.
I was but a student nurse then.
But a great life's lesson I had learned.
Physical touch is what's needed most,
when life departs and we become a goast.
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