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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1690010
A man in a nursing home reflects on shortness of life
I Don't Belong

A mist appears on the grass this morning,
Then, without warning, it's gone.
A sea of gray hair, I sit in the middle,
Then, I meditate a little.
I don't belong.

I remember the days, with my childhood friends,
The cars the fads and other such trends, then it's gone.
My nurse checks my vitals, and gives me my pills,
There is no joy, there are no thrills.
I don't belong.

In my mind, I am young, I'm only twenty,
The energy and vibrance, I have plenty, then it's gone.
The mirror shows a road map, of lines on my face,
Even with my walker, I can't keep the pace.
I don't belong.

My youth has vanished and now I am old,
Once useful, productive, brash and bold, it's gone.
They help me to dinner and then to my bed,
When I dream of you, our memories flood my head.
Then...... I do belong.
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