CRANKY OLD MAN
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a
nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing
left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going
through his meagre possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so
impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the
hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Mel bourne . The old man's
sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of
magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide
presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent,
poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the
world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the
Internet.
Cranky Old Man
What do you see nurses? . .
.. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you're
looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very
wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway
eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . .. . . and makes no
reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you
do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or
shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . .. lets you do as you
will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?. .Is that what you
see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you're not looking at
me.
I'll tell you who I am . . . . . As I sit here so
still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your
will.
I'm a small child of Ten . .with a father and
mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one
another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his
feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll
meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a
leap.
Remembering, the vows .. . .that I promised to
keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my
own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy
home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . . My young now grown
fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should
last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are
gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don't
mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. ..Babies play 'round my
knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and
me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now
dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . I shudder with
dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . young of their
own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I've
known.
I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is
cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a
fool.
The body, it crumbles .. . . grace and vigour,
depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a
heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still
dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart
swells
I remember the joys . . . . . . I remember the
pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . life over
again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too
fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can
last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . . . open and
see.
Not a cranky old man.
Look closer . . .
. see . .. . . .... . ME!!
Remember this poem when you next
meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul
within ... . . .
we will all, one day, be there,
too!
