I saw some older folks today.
They struggled now to get about.
I wondered how they got that way;
But then I didn't want to shout.
The stride that might have marched to war
Is now a shuffle one foot long.
I see them hoping for one more,
Asking to whom their legs belong.
Some walkers used, others had canes.
It didn't use to be like this.
They don't remember all these pains.
What happened to that life of bliss?
Their sight's not what it used to be.
They can't go long without a break.
For meals they have just toast and tea.
A greater effort they can't make.
Barn dances they remember well,
Their friends and cars, events long past.
What day it is they cannot tell,
Their present recalls do not last.
Some have been locked within their mind.
The barriers they do not see.
It's not in them to be unkind.
They yell at us to set them free.
If only someone else would care;
They seem to be so all alone.
Their children had no time to spare.
It's modern 'life' that sets this tone.
There was one daughter with her mom.
To her she shouts, "Don't make a fuss!"
I wished to say, "Respect her some."
In a few years she will be us.