04/05/2014
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 meager 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 Melbourne.
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
vigor, 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!
PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM (originally by
Phyllis McCormack; adapted by Dave
Griffith)
The best and most beautiful things of
this world can't be seen or touched.
They must be felt by the heart!
