I recently had the opportunity to spend a week with my father nursing him after surgery for a shoulder injury, a torn rotator cuff if you know what that is. My mother passed away last year after a long serious illness. the visit with my father inspired this poem:
The Old Man
© Grover Lawlis
Clack! Clack! Emptying cans
of pet food upon rising.
Dawn, slivers of light fall on the bed,
I’m roused by both and coffee smells.
Farm life, feeding the animals,
has a cadence that’s timeless
constant as sunrise and sunset
life streams one day to the next.
Gray, drawn, his words slower
since Mom died. He works the
New York Times crossword, alone now,
slurping his soggy Cheerios.
His truth comes in sound bytes,
“I’m a Christian.”
Yet inside, a mind far more
complicated slices, dices, processes.
He faces the Reaper knowing,
“I’ll die of a stroke.
All my kin did.”
Old doctors never die,
They mosey into the next dimension.
Once rash, arrogant, even cruel, now
wiser, measured, tempered,
a more generous, loving soul.
Hope you enjoy it,and have a good week!
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Grover- This is beautiful, and touches my heart. I lost both of my parents last year, but was fortunate enough to have some quality time, and the chance to say "Goodbye," with both of them.
ReplyDelete"They mosey into the next dimension. Once rash, arrogant, even cruel, now
wiser, measured, tempered, a more generous, loving soul."
So true. Thanks for this.............Chuck