1 of 8

Write now Article Tools

Uncle

And there he sits in patient rage
a man of no means growing old and tired by the moment
Alone but for a few infrequent visits that are there and gone
as quickly and as silently as the air upon the locked windows
that block an exit from the mundane passionless days of naught.

His losses are indescribable
for he lost the flesh of his flesh
on a rain-slicked road so many eras ago

and yet he still carries the now crumbled photo
in his well-worn wallet,
for a son is a son is a son.

His true love too left him far too soon,
taken by the very misery and despair that
enters his soul and plays havoc with his spirit
that once sang with joy and danced a magical tune
of times gone by.

And now he sits remote and quiet in a home
made for the aged and ill
his arms engulfed in protective cloth
from the bumps and shadows of too many
falls from life.

And there are times when I see the old sparkle in his weary eyes
and that unforgettable sense of courage
despite the hopelessness of his sitaution
and then it too is gone,
toppled by too many years and not
enough love by so few.

And I visit out of a sense of diligence
to my long lost mother who would want me to
never forget her younger sibling
who though simple in sense
is never simple in heart.

I watch as he scratches off the numbers,
winning a small amount and the smile enters his face
and fulfills a vision
as I slowly walk away and
he remains....alone.

Learn more about this author, Kelly Steier.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Nursing home resident?
We want to hear your view. Write now!