Nursing Home Poem by Les Murray
Nursing Home
Ne tibi supersis:
don't outlive yourself,
panic, or break a hip
or spit purée at the staff
at the end of gender,
never a happy ender -
yet in the pastel light
of indoors, there is a lady
who has distilled to love
beyond the fall of memory.
She sits holding hands
with an ancient woman
who calls her brother and George
as bees summarise the garden.
Thursday, March 23, 2017
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4/15/2024 5:50:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
