This poem was created with the invaluable assistance of the Parkside Care Home Players.
Old Folks
We’re old folks. That’s obvious. You see it at a glance:
In the slowness of our movement , in our weak and shaky stance.
We don’t hear like we used to hear, our eyes are not so sharp,
And you might think that sometime soon they’ll issue us a harp.
But hang around a moment, don’t you up and walk away.
Just listen. What you hear from us might be of use some day.
Old age. You reach it slowly; you don’t notice when it comes.
Life doesn’t ebb away with getting old.
Time just rushes faster – where is it going? Why the haste?
The story shouldn’t end before it’s told.
There’s no difference in the aching or the dreaming in your soul,
You’re still climbing, trying hard to get ahead.
But you’re used to working towards a goal that’s not there any more.
So if you like, you take a nap instead.
This place we live, the ‘Old Folks’ Home,’ may have it’s ups and downs
But it’s warm, and clean, and safe, and friendly, too.
They leave us our own space, here, we’re free to come and go,
And there’s help here if we need it, and we do.
We never have to fret about our food and drink and clothes;
You younger folk can pamper us a bit.
We’ve earned the right to slack a while, we’ve played the game so long,
But don’t think for a moment that we’ve quit.
Oh, sometimes it gets lonely, with so many strangers near,
But how is that unlike our lives before?
We’d rather not be out there in your busy, active days.
The waves are rough, we’ll sit here on the shore.
No matter how you view your life, it does get hard sometimes.
We have a meagre future – good or bad.
Though some of us look forward to a greater Hope to come,
And some prefer remembering what we had.
So think of us a time or two, as you choose your way.
All your thoughts and your decisions as you hurry through your day.
Live a life you can be proud of, make a story that will last,
As the balance of your days move from the future to the past,
So you won’t be discontented when your time is nearly through.
For remember, in the good old days…we were just like you.