Dedicating a poem to someone,
Was really, blowing their horn.
Today, you might say,
That type of sentimental honor
Is practically unknown,
Times change,
What once was glory
Today, just bubbly foam.
as a male aide.
and i used to sit
with the elderly,
as they lay dying,
who often had no family
to be there.
and i learned one of
the great truths of life…
listen!
to the stories of living,
to both the pain,
and the joy,
in the voice…
to the hope that
can only be faith…
to the hum of love.
to the defiant heart beating,
to the sound
of the last door opening…
to the sound the hand makes,
when it lets go!
listen, just listen!