I’ll Finally Be There

I guess I look like a bag of bones
skin’s all wrinkled, my eyes just stare.
I sit so still, hardly moving at all
quiet as a mouse in my old wheelchair.
Inside my head memories come and go
I try to think does someone care?
I’m all alone, no family left
the end must be near, I better prepare.
There must be a place
where my friends have gone
I know it’s not here, but not sure where.
My eyes can’t see, but my heart will know
when I’m gone from the nursing home
I’ll finally be there.

Poetry and Art by Patricia Walter 2007 ©