I heard about an old lady
living lonely at a care home
visited by a dutiful man
fulfilling a friendly obligation.
To pass time and cover
the dementia causing
conversational decline --
he invited her to walk
down the hall, a dangerous
invitation. It could be an emotional
gauntlet. Wheelchairs and
drool, wet diapers and vacant
eyes. Tears. Distress ricocheting
off both walls. Silent mouths twisted,
pleading to leave, longing for home.
She lit the way, entranced
every few steps
by the fresh view.
Each time she'd stop and shine
up at him and say,
"Oh, so this is where we are!"
