A Wilted Flower

by boxergirl

She sits alone in the nursing home,
in a wheelchair by the window.
Her frame is frail, shoulders stooped,
and her head hangs low
like a wilted flower,
waiting to be tossed away.
She's so tired of the tick tock
of the wall clock. Make it stop!
Day in--day out, daylight till dark,
she waits and waits...for what?
she knows not.

Confusion is her companion.
Fear resides with her too.
But like a long lost friend,
a mem'ry drops in,
giving brief relief from misery.
No one calls, outlived them all,
her two kids and their pa.
Shouldn't be that way,
yet there she stays,
trapped in the maze
of her life's last stage.
Feeling less like someone
and more like some thing,
waiting to be tossed away.

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I've had the opportunity to visit more nursing homes since I retired and have met so many precious people. Many starving for validation that they are still important. And what great stories I have heard...need to start recording them. I am not bashing nursing homes. Most do the best they can. So if you get a chance, stop by one and visit. You will be the one blessed!

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A Wilted Flower

by boxergirl

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