This poem is dedicated to all the nursing home residents that sit in that bleak
place, no family left, most of their friends are in the same shape, I am a night
nurse, and I see this every day, lonely old people sitting there, wishing they
had a visitor, someone to make them smile and make them count.
The old man sits in his chair,
Watching the door but nobody's there.
A single tear slides down his cheek,
His voice is silent he cannot speak.
His eyes tell the story of his pain,
As his mind travels solo down memory
Lane.
He is ill now and there's no hand
To hold,
The nurse's tell him he is so bold.
They tend to him as if he were kin,
They miss him as if he were a
Friend.
Now his voice will forever be
Heard,
As he travels upward like a bird.