Crabby OLD LADY
> >
> > When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small
> >hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed 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 "Crabby Old Woman."
> >
> > 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!!