Mark Filiser, an old man, died at the geriatric ward of a nursing home. What he left behind was a Â Â beautiful poem called Cranky Old Man which the old man had written days before his death. The poem left everyone lost for words, and the nurse in charge made sure all employees got copies of the heart-breaking lyrics. Below is the poem for you to enjoy.
Cranky Old Man
What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when youâ€™re looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . â€¦ . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .â€™I do wish youâ€™d try!â€™
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . â€¦ lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what youâ€™re thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .youâ€™re not looking at me.
Iâ€™ll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
Iâ€™m a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover heâ€™ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . ..my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I donâ€™t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. â€¦Babies play â€™round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future â€¦ . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that Iâ€™ve known.
Iâ€™m now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
Itâ€™s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And Iâ€™m loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. â€¦. . ME!!