The Visiting Hours

I visited your grey face today.
Your not well, old friend, not well.
They say it’s spreading swiftly
Through your every curve and bend,
I examined you myself with cruel eyes
The world will never be able to mend.
You’ve changed all right.
What caused it?
All those years of over indulgence?
Should have seen it coming?
Well, perhaps…
Though it was bound to build up
And up and up and out.
I fear for you dear, alone and isolated
Out here on the west.
I had to leave you then
Like they soon will.
They said you needed to rest.

Outside, just beyond your stare
Yellow and orange daffodils grew
And fluttered in the long grass.
They used to be your favourites.
Mine too.

by Seán O Muiríosa

Comments (5)

excellent poem my friend...I loved the essence of this piece..
Sean, Mary is absolutely right, this is a wonderful and powerful poem. The ending is so poignant....
What a wonderful poem! ! I am always suprised and saddened to learn of an elderly person dying alone as they do. Your last paragraph reminds me of how cruel it seems that as somebody is dying.........the world does not stop to notice. Sincerely, Mary
this is so powerfull, you have a great talent Seán
I like this poem very much Seán. It is sad but it is based on reality, a lot of old people die alone.. As for the last paragraph, I just loved it. Well done my friend! HBH