| James |
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| Written by Alicia M. Glunt | |
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The heavy smell smacked me As I walked into the small house Yellowed walls and faded furniture Crowded the tiny room. Sitting on the couch Was a tiny withered man Worn by age and ready To move on. The wrinkles on his face Framed his dark brown eyes Each wrinkle earned and Each with its own story. Tired limbs hung From this antique burdened body Once part of a whole Now only a fraction of what was. Health seemed to fade in And out of the room Yearning for both comfort And for life. I left not knowing Which would conquer Realizing what I have Left to spend. About the author: I am a Senior at Robert Morris University in Pittsburgh, PA. I wrote this poem about a man I took care of, I work as a care giver, never knowing if my patients will live from day to day. Comments (0)
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