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Publié le par PRISE DE CHOU


When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near
Dundee, Scotland, it was believed that she had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through her meagre possessions they found
this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were
made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity
has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the
North Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also
been made based on her simple but eloquent poem.

And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world,
is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet:

*Crabby Old Woman*

What do you see, nurses................What do you see?

What are you thinking......When you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman...........................Not very wise,

Uncertain of habit,......................With faraway  eyes?

Who dribbles her food ............... And makes no reply.

When you say in a loud voice.......'I do wish you'd try!'

Who seems not to notice ..........The things that you do,

And forever is losing .....................A stocking or shoe?

Who, resisting or not, ..............Lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding, ..............The long day to  fill?

Is that what you're thinking?......... Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse,....You're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am ............................As  I sit here so still,

As I do at your bidding, .................... As I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten...............With a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters........................Who love one another

A young girl of sixteen .....................With wings on her feet

Dreaming that soon now ....................... A lover she'll meet.

A bride soon at twenty, .................... My heart gives a leap,

Remembering the vows ................ That I promised to keep..

At twenty-five now,........................I have young of my  own,

Who need me to guide ................ And a secure happy home..

A woman of thirty,...................... My young now grown fast,

Bound to each other........................With ties that  should last.

At forty, my young sons................Have grown and are gone,

But my man's beside me.........................To see I don't mourn

At fifty once more,......................Babies play  round my knee,

Again we know children,.................. My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me,........................My husband is  dead,

I look at the future,...............................I shudder  with dread

For my young are all rearing ...................Young of their own,

And I think of the years............ And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman........................... And nature is cruel;

'tis jest to make old age ............................  Look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles,.................... Grace and vigour depart,

There is now a stone..................... Where I once had  a heart.

But inside this old carcass.................. A young girl still dwells,

And now and again,..................... My  battered  heart swells.

I remember the joys,.......................... I remember the  pain,

And I'm loving and living...............................  Life over again.

I think of  the years...................... All  too few, gone too fast,

And accept the stark fact......................That nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people,............................Open and see,

Not a crabby old woman;..........Look closer......see,.....ME!!

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C
tu sais bien que c'est quand on dit qu'on est sérieux qu'on l'est le moins !<br /> mais je maintiens c'est beau et ça peut être très beau d'être vieille.
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C
S - sorry about that dear, it made me cry too...<br /> Cat - don't be too serious, please !
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P
beau, très beau. ça donne envie d'être vieille and I really am serious.
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S
This is a lovely gift. It’ bloody sad but so beautiful at the same time.<br /> However you shouldn’t be proud of you because you’ve made me cry, Chou....
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