When an old lady
died in the geriatric ward of a
small hospital near Dundee,
Scotland, it was felt that she
had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were
going through her 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 Ireland.
The old lady's sole bequest to
posterity has since appeared in
the Christmas edition of the
News Magazine of the North
Ireland Association for Mental
Health. A slide presentation has
also been made based on her
simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this little old Scottish
lady, with nothing left to give
to the world, is now the author
of this "anonymous" poem winging
across the Internet.
~ An Old Lady's Poem ~
What do you see, nurses, what do
you see?
What are you thinking when
you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman, not very
wise,
uncertain of habit, with faraway
eyes?
Who dribbles her 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 stocking 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 girl of sixteen, with
wings on her feet,
dreaming that soon now a lover
she'll meet.
A bride 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 woman 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 man's 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
husband is 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 woman...and
nature is cruel;
'Tis 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 girl 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 crabby old woman; look
closer...see ME!!
Remember this
poem when you next meet an old
person who you might brush aside
without looking at the young
soul within...
We will one day be there, too!
~Author Unknown~