the forgotten…

the forgotten

sitting unheard
in
the shadows
of
life
are
the old dreamers
dreamers
who had
such
wonderful plans
as they
set out
on
life’s journey
only
to end up
barely visible
in
the shadows
of
existence
with
their dreams
scattered
like
litter
around
their useless feet
useless
since
they have no time
left
to travel
the promise
of
death
anchors them
to
retirement home hallways
or
their
artificially
cheerful cells
decorated
with
life fragments
a time
when
they weren’t
in
this purgatory
this
transitional place
that
offers
drive-by-visitors
family members
who’ve
forgotten
that
beinghood
is more than
safety
it’s a warm embrace
and
seeing daily
the faces
of
those you love
but
convenience
becomes
the watch word
and so
souls become
forgotten

for your benefit…

for your benefit

hoping
to acquire
some
desired property
a rather young
and
eager
real estate agent
stopped
to talk
to aunt bea
about
the advantages
of
retirement home living
and how
he
could help her
reach
financial independence
in her
senior years
i decided
to sit in
and
watch
the fireworks
halfway
through his spiel
aunt bea
said
child
have you lost
your mind
there is no way
in hell
i’m gonna
leave this house
to live in some
retirement community
where my fingernail polish
is older than
most of the staff
and
as you would
soon learn
as the party
responsible for
my
placement
the first time
someone
anyone
talked to me like
a child
all hell
would hafta
be paid
so
save
yourself
some grief
takes those
papers
back to their
source
the
forest