A Place called HOME......the eldely infirm
I was the proverbial busy bee
Up in the attic down on my knee
Brush the piano feed the hare.
Tend the home with loving care.
To the market now, hitch a ride.
Water the hollyhocks on the side.
The fence an lawn were my pride.
So the kids an my hubby's stride.
Walked at a clip an over the hill.
How fast it was I wonder still.
Surely sets to our east and west,
At HOME here, a guess at best.
My glasses I broke on that sill,
get em fixed, don't have the will.
No ones been to see me for days
My sis when called, said she prays
See my hands, he'd tenderly hold,
gave me a solitaire, ringed in gold.
Wrinkled dry, parched with times.
Knobby; shakin, searching dimes.
Could you please do my bed?
Could you nurse have me fed.
O' someone please do my shirts
Do someone, please draw the curts
We wet eyed rock an wait our turns
As nature cavorts an the candle burns
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 February 1970-)
(27 December 1797 – 15 February 1869)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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