Old man take a look at your life now
A friend sent me the following and I am sharing it. But the sentiment in the poem is dark so I rewrote it with apologies to the original unknown author.
CRABBY OLD MAN
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a Nursing home in Moosomin, Saskatchewan, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Alberta. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem. And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.
Crabby Old Man
What do you see nurses? . . . .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old man . .. . .. . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . ‘I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice .. .. . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not .. . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you’re not looking at me..
I’ll tell you who I am. . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . . .. . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another.
A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . .. And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . .. . With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman’s beside me . . . .. . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . .. My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . . . and the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . .. . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . .. . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . see ME!!
My version of the poem with a more positive outlook than the original Crabby Old Man
What do you see, dear ones? What do you see?
What are you thinking when you’re looking at me?
A vibrant old soul, full of life and glee,
With a heart that’s still beating strong and free.
Who’s still got a twinkle in their eye,
And a story to tell, and a memory to buy.
Who’s still got a spark, a flame that’s bright,
And a spirit that’s still dancing through the night.
Who’s still got a sense of humour, and a heart that’s light,
And a love for life,
that shines like a beacon in flight.
Who’s still got a dream, a goal, a passion to pursue,
And a fire that burns, that’s still burning anew.
Who’s still got a family, a loved one by their side,
And a Legacy to leave, a story to abide.
Who’s still got a purpose, a reason to get up and face,
The challenges of life, with a heart that’s full of grace.
Is that what you’re seeing? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, dear ones, and look closer at me.
I’m not just an old person, I’m a story to be told,
A life that’s been lived, with moments to behold.
I’m a young boy, a teenager, a young adult too,
A parent, a grandparent, a great-grandparent, with a story
or two.
I’m a person, with a heart that beats, with a soul that’s
bright,
And a life that’s been lived, with all its joys and its
plight.
So don’t just see the wrinkles, don’t just see the gray,
Look closer, dear ones, and see the person, in every way.
See the love, the laughter, the tears, the fears,
See the life that’s been lived, through all the years.
And when you look at me, don’t just see an old face,
See the person, with a story to tell, and a heart that’s
still in place.
See the love, the light, the life, that’s still shining
bright,
And know that I’m still here, with a story to share, and a
heart that’s still alight.
Remember either one of these poems when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there, too!
Originally Published on https://boomersnotsenior.blogspot.com/
