No roof over his head
no regular bed,
roughed it so long
he's lost his looks,
doesn't care anymore
about who is or isn't on TV.
She used to dance,
a disco queen
dressed to the nines,
now the clothes she wears
barely hang on
and she's no-one left
to telephone.
They're running out of time,
may even have lost
their taste for fine wines
but would still love a treat,
a square meal or two
but more than that
a square deal will do -
they're willing and able
they just need to be allowed
to climb back on board.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello for one who's father was in this situation 10 years ago, this really got me, you thought this through or followed through so well, covering both sides of the most venerable people...thank you karen