I really liked this one...

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 vigour 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!