Goodnight Mr. Oliver Poem by Tom Courtney

The sun settles into the hills
behind the hospital compound
And the long shadows fade
into the dimness of the evening
The old man moves slightly
shifting in the chair
lifting one hand
placing it over the other
The hands now like dry leaves
rustled by a waft of the air
more sensitive to the cold now
So funny he thinks
alone again
I always knew
it would be this way
So many times
and in so many ways
Always captive to my heart
a tear on my cheek old fool
Oh fool yes and over and over
but so suddenly old
Ah it just crept up on me
Youth cannot imagine age
We never really know
Oh I was never young
It was just a funny dream
How very, very strange
to be ninety-four
My skin’s becoming transparent
Maybe that's the way I’ll go
One day the light will just
shine though me
And I’ll be gone
and the staff will come looking
Oh Mr. Oliver!
Have you seen Mr. Oliver?
He was sitting there
as usual in the garden
Look here's his blanket
and his cup of water
Oh look, can you see the funny light?
The evenings get this way
Sometimes in autumn
Perhaps he wandered off
Oh Mr. Oliver!
It's time to come in
for the