Caring Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Caring.
One of the last frontiers,
To visit and witness.
And sometimes for others,
Misunderstood if overly done.
With it taken for granted.
When too much a caring becomes.

And seldom does a caring to do,
Is enough to satisfy...
The ones who receive it.
Or decide one who is dependable,
Has nothing else to do.
Leaving one that cares unable,
To undo this belief to prove untrue.

Yet...
Those who know their caring is real.
Seldom reveal,
A touch of aggravation.
Now and then to feel.
To openly express,
"That's it!
I have had it with this,
This...? "

-B.S.? -

"No. Not that.
B.S.?
I'm accustomed to it."

Only caring more,
Those who care often do.
As if haunted by guilt.
Attempting unsuccessfully,
To avoid and ignore...
Another 'caring trip'.
And yet,
Like an addict...
Needing,
Just...one more 'fix' of it.
There the caring begins again.
Expecting disrespect.
To get and dismiss.
Again.

"And where have 'you' been?
Pretending to be busy?
Too many appointments to fill?
Too many return calls to make?
So...
Today,
You found nothing else to do.
And that's why you decided,
To pay me a visit? "

-Uh...
Yeah.-

"Well...
I can not blame you for being thoughtful.
Sometimes."

-Excuse me? -