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9:00 a.m. Nursing home Journies.Pale blue eyes watery with sentiment parchment skin layered by times creases old veins like blue ink tell a tale up the arms and the legs of the frail no longer circulating outside this place they are clots that society slowly is dissolving out of sight and mind the sour stench of old urine and baby powder mingles with the crooked smiles as you pass row after row of chairs wheeled but going nowhere strapped to a rail but trained to remain with other straps around the waist...the waste of years I am sure that these ancient souls locked in wheelchairs all day in nursing homes and rest homes are never really truly there, they are out running through the memories of childhood again, that surround them clear as spring water, laughing and giggling in a bubble of time that holds them in a rainbow of fragile but endearing moments playing hide and seek with reality till death releases them from the sweetness of yesteryear's anesthesia ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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