# CRABBY OLD MAN

## 29 Jun CRABBY OLD MAN

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses?. . . . . . What do you see?

What are you thinking . . . . . when you’re looking at me?

A crabby 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 a 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’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 wife is now dead.

I look at the future . . . . . . . . and 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.

Tis jest to make old age . . . . and 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 guy 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 man. Look closer . . . . . see ME!