You Always Got On My Nerves Poem by Patti Masterman

You always got on my nerves,
But then I saw your photo:
You are old; far older than I imagined
With the kindly look that the aged often acquire
If they are very lucky-
And I could feel my heart
Stretching out it's blue tinged fingertips
To trace your ravaged face.

By the time we have grown any real wisdom,
Our looks have all flown away
Like fickle birds, looking for greener fields elsewhere;
The skeleton is already beginning to peek out,
A promise of worse things yet to come.
But kindness in the eyes
Will outlive the longest holocaust.