Nursing Home Memory

Sigils where words

should be.

past future dreams.

Yellow marks, tear marks


and the years compressed

into pages.


Who will know?

when these bones 

turn to dust?

who will even care?

Words unspoken unwritten.


The hands crossed

resting forever.

Let me say it for you.


"I was here"
















Author's Notes/Comments: 

We are too late, sometimes.

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allets's picture

This Poem Is So Human

the images are familiar and poignant and widely experienced by families. The last line is perfection (and I don't say that often). - Stella -



Blackwingedbird's picture

Thank you friend, I am really

Thank you friend, I am really touched.