A Tuesday Poem -- Getting Old

This Room

Sitting by the door

It's my life now

I sit here and wait

It's a nice room

I picked it while I could

Not where I wanted to be

Things we had before

Marjorie and me,

Was told I could bring

Not the bed it might not work

My dresser and a little table

There's a chair for you

The soft green one we had

It sat by the chair for you

You'd sit and write while I slept

Sometimes I'd be awake

You didn't know but I was

Watching you compose

A tear is coming now

I'll pause and savor the thought

Innocent you were then

Not your fault it just was

Was the end coming near

While you sat and wrote

Sitting by the window

In the green chair that I brought

When you finished writing

You'd tip toe to my side

and kiss me on my cheek and my arm

You didn't know I was awake

Awake and watching you write

Watching you pause look my way

Then you'd come after you wrote

Now I sit by this door

and smile and wipe another tear

They wheeled me here to wait

It isn't you that will come

I hope it is one of our kids

Likely I'll say your name

I'll know it wasn't you who

kissed my cheek and said their name

They don't mind when I say your name

_ _ _

- Photo and Poem Copyrighg, Jimmiehov 2019, All Rights Reserved
- I am linked with Sanaa Rizvi in the Imaginary Garden at http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/06/the-tuesday-platform.html?m=1
 - Dad died in 2007 at the age of 97.  These are thoughts my dad might have had at his nursing home room.  He had fallen and broken his hip which could not be repaired.  So he spent the last two years of his life in bed or in a wheel chair.  They might be your thoughts or mine some future day.
 - The chair is from my parent's home, we have it now.
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