A visit to the nursing home
and this is what I see.
Many souls once full of life,
to most a memory.
Looking out the window,
they watch the cars go by.
As the world continues on,
busy with their lives.

Visitors less frequent,
if they come at all.
The residents continue on,
wheeling down the hall.
Their feet slowly moving,
blankets on their laps.
They find a place in the sun,
to take a little nap.

The stories they can tell,
of the days of old.
Are better than a movie,
or a tv show.
They’ve watched our country change,
through their aging eyes.
The memories they share,
we hardly recognize.

In their younger days,
a man kept his word.
Children respected parents,
a curse word rarely heard.

No business open Sunday’s,
that day for the Lord.
Prayer in school was common,
Pride in country by them all.

Now they sit and wonder,
where it all went wrong.
Why they sit alone,
hoping someone comes along.

Photo: Roy and Jessie Bayless
            My Great Grandparents