Reflections On Growing Old

I cannot utter what my mind desires to say

My lips are parched for words today

You offer a compassionate smile

I cannot respond

You continue, however, to work on

You look among my clothes, the outfits of my wardrobe

And select an attire you feel befits me

Still I thank you not

You bathe me and comb my hair

You make my bed and feed me

And yet, I say nothing

At times you are frustrated

I offer no sympathy

Your work goes on

If, however, you could but see

The youth I once used to be

A thousand words of gratitude would fall from my lips.


*written when I was working at a nursing home