You don't know me.

In the home the carers help the aged cope
See them washed, dressed and comfortable
They place the daily news on the laps of some
In the middle of a table, a jigsaw puzzle
Some hobble, some are helped into the room
Some wear a smile of morning greeting
One tries to pacify a weeping soul
Another gathers news by tweeting

She sits in an armchair that appears far too big
An illusion for in truth it's she that's shrinking
Her eyes are fixed on some disappearing point
And no one ever knows what she is thinking
She is not here, she is in another world
Where laughter rings and the music plays
The lights are bright and youth regained
As her memory takes her to the happier days

Had they seen her in her younger days
What a different person she would prove
Her demeanour shy, some would say aloof
Admirers stand waiting to make their move
Though her favours are not easily given
Everything about her seems so nice
Her smile inviting to the eager male
Whose hedonistic needs show in their eyes

The night had begun with a pleasant meal
At a restaurant they would often frequent
Though a costly place everyone agreed
That it was well worth the money spent
They then moved on to where the music played
To drink and dance, make merry into the night
To talk and laugh, to revel in their youth
Their futures never ending, ever bright

She laughs heartily, head thrown back
As their amusing anecdotes regale
She seems impressed by the escapades
Of one self obsessed hero's latest tale
Later taking her in his waiting arms
He swings her round the crowded floor
Still telling her of his many feats
Not realising he has fast become a bore

Her petite dress draws all eyes around the room
Her hair catches the lights from the mirrored ball
Her face applauds the music with her sheer delight
He appears to hold the most precious prize of all
And there is no stopping, there are others who
Take his place on the whirling floor
So that, in the end, she begs a rest
There is nothing left, she can dance no more

The night rolls on and the music slows
The conversation now becomes subdued
Some of them leaving the waning room
The many now have fast become the few
Some one goes to fetch her wrap
An enraptured beau to see her home
She rests content in her simple bed
Till the morning dawn's and the carer comes

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

A poignant poem Bryan of aging. I visit my elderly aunt regularly in her residential home and for years until her death in February visited my mum too. I would see many a lonely soul who fits the description in this write. People in their last years alone and left just with their memories. Some just don't want to be here. Carers do their best but they can't take away loneliness. Well composed verses.

Chris