Poem By Margaret Moran
Old as in a TV program
I watched a TV program set in an older people home
there was a murder with a pillow done by a nurse who stole
valuable items from the week and feeble patience.
Well, our detective solved the case and the owner of the home
was in this foul deed he sold the stolen items.
So far, so good, what I disliked was the patient killed was
eighty years old as was the other at this home.
For the first time in my life, I realized I was one of them
and I got suspicious are people at supermarket patronizing
I, when I make my feeble jokes, does the waiter at the cafe
serves me first in case I get elderly grumpy.
Can I trust that people speak to me as an equal and no someone
they have agreed within a concern of my age.
Are my opinions dismissed as an older man´s prattle?
I can´t bear the thought of being patronized by anyone except
my wife, she has always thought I´m mad.
I have no friends. All I can do is talking to myself.