Thoughtful gray eyes peer down to the written page
Straining to see peripherally as macular degeneration has claimed sight on the entire floor of her nursing home
She smiles a tilted soft smile lined with creased skin and years of using that muscle
Her nose drips, so a hanky is conveniently tucked into her sweater sleeve at the wrist
Do you use foundation? She asks. Mine gets all ribbed in these old cheeks, but I like to bring some colour to my face
Look at this face
You’d be surprised what it has seen
My husband’s green eyes on our wedding day
My daughter’s disappointment in marriage and miscarriage
My nephew’s overdose
My dogs sleeping peacefully
My cat in my arms the day I had to put her down
I loved that cat
Mrs. was her name. Just Mrs.
I could never come up with anything more clever
My dear friends have passed away, and my new friends are just acquaintances, really
They mostly all live here if you can call this living
When one gets sick, we all catch it
When feeding time arrives, we all suffer through carrots, and more carrots. Hell, they even put carrots in the spaghetti sauce. Can you imagine?
It sucks to get old
93, I am
I feel like 75, but my legs don’t work so well anymore. I am sure I could still drive though
The grandkids put the kiboshes to that
Liberty and freedom
It’s what we all want
It’s what we all need
Just to be
2 thoughts on “Della”
Thank you. This was a poem to be in “It’s Personal.” The nursing home interview storybook like Janie shared with us…then covid hit.
Comments are closed.