So intense we ride out the morrow, Through the darkness of many sorrows. Immense hatred, love, emotional state of mind, Tortured by many ills that befall mankind.
Visions of memories twist and twirl haunting, Tears falling, eyes dark peace is all she is wanting. Her soul held captive by a fate held strong, She cannot choose whether right or wrong.
The choices made by many none ever the same, She wonders if any of them even remember her name. Doctors, nurses, social workers even a shrink or two, Charts. Always charts, deciding what they wish to do.
Her wishes do not matter, she just wants to be left alone, She has no desire for this place. She wants to go home. She cannot be alone they say. She is just too old. She has nowhere to go. Her car is gone, her house was sold.
Seasons have changed gone from summer to fall. Leaves falling from trees there is no calendar on the wall. She feels deserted carrying the burden of heartbreak, Left all alone with only her tears, and thoughts she cannot shake.
She raised them. Taught them, helped them walk learn to eat, Bandaged their cuts, tended fevers, taught them not to accept defeat. But here she was many miles away tears falling like a hot summer's rain, Defeated. Cast aside. Wondering if she would ever see them again.
A siren in the distance closer it comes. Clyde’s been down with the flu. Had them darn flu shots, always in bed taking lots of pills too. Nothing seems to help, just pining away, Reliving lost memories from yesterday.
They all have a story. A tale to tell, A heart that breaks, Age catches us all and yes, we are going to make mistakes. A little love and compassion goes a long way, Never forget that tomorrow is always another day.
© Cynthia Clark