Ten years ago,
when they were tykes
just in their 70s,
Melvin used to tell Emma
eat your Wheaties
because you're younger
and when we get old,
you'll have to push
my wheelchair down
the long and silent halls
of this nursing home so
we can get to the cafeteria
in time for breakfast.
Melvin was a kidder then
but now the time has come.
Folks in the cafeteria hear
Melvin slurp his Wheaties
and gulp his coffee before
he leans over to help Emma
with a napkin and then slowly
wheels her back to the room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Cant say I understand the poem, but I appreciate the effort to write something for alzheimers'