The Nursing Home
The Nursing Home
by James Alexandros Papastamos
I
Imprisoned by such hands of time
That rape, incest, and so infect
The body, mind, perhaps the soul
Of those whose crime was age…at best
II
Each wrinkle drew to map their world
When they were young, its mountains rose
But seas would drown in shallow pools
Of joy, reflection, guilt, remorse
III
Though age, itself, is not so bad
The windows come to those who’ve seen
The best of all and worse to come
May those who’ve aged live on…in dreams
IV
In nursing homes that foster such
poem by James Papastamos
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