Golden Fleece Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Golden Fleece

Today my wife and I went to look at an old people’s home,
the entrance looked hotel like and had a reception and
the girl who manned it wore a starched, white uniform.
She showed us around told us that every room double or
single had a shower and a tea kitchen and fridge.
And that we came to the main room where the patients sat,
sorry they are called guests; it was nice only no one spoke
people with open mouths sat watching telly and the air had
a feeling of despondency and a faint smell of urine.
Sometimes I feel like Jason’s old dog, it remembers his master
In my case my youth, but who is to take care of me now?