92 & 89 – found poem

They sit in wheelchairs, holding hands,
discussing this new thing
they’ve done together, falling.
He’d bent to catch her fell himself
broke a femur, now nailed.

He says, Glad we built that ramp.
She says, Our handyman, he could be
our driver now?

They stare into the face they know better
than their own.

She says, Let me comb your hair.
He says, Ask him if he’ll drive.
Both with only briefly wetted eyes.

5 thoughts on “92 & 89 – found poem

  1. Living in a retirement community of elders, this piece resonates. I’m sure with your OT profession, you’ve come across these stories by the dozens. There his sweetness, humility, acceptance, grace and so much more in what you have captured here. I could have done that in several pages of prose, but the poet that you are has captured it so much more beautifully. Thanks!


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