Robert Starkey
10-17-12
Glass Man
An elderly man once full of beguile
Lie in bed round doctors with psychosis
Too tired to act hostile nether while
I fathomed stories rather prognosis
As he looked at me with a senile smile
He said, “Never shame your diagnosis”
I could smell bitter sweet in something ill
How this gentleman spaced in worlds so still
He’d tell me of third generation meds
Tales of how hospital staff would treat him
Cried of strapping his arms and legs to beds
The truth that he himself knew he was grim
Complains that doctors would mess with their heads
All and all to family sounded whim
Stories of long ago, clinics deranged
I wonder what of this century’s changed
I know what some social folks won’t accept
Although he may not, he looks as if so
If not for the many years of inept
Folks would want to know what he’ll always know
Some claim to care and even intercept
Maybe I’m the proof that needs not to show
As I opened my eyes and time unfurled
I came to fear the beauty in the world
Pristine or profane resides in the glass?
I do not recall a sip nor a pour
Seems pointless to calculate dense or mass
It’s just something nothing less nothing more
One day, some day this man will some time pass
I’ll tell him he became the glass before…
An elderly man with stories to tell
And a story for him beneath his shell