FW: Crabby Old Man Poem - AWESOME!!!

[Guest guest]

Had to pass this along----you never will know what people think unless you stop and talk to them------------------we are ALL young at heart no atter what we look like--

G.

> > CRABBY OLD MAN > When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in> North Platte , Nebraska , it was believed that he had nothing left of any> value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions,> They found this poem.> Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made> and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.> One nurse took her copy to Missouri . The old man's sole bequest to> posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine> of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has> also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.> And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is> now the author of this ' anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.> > Crabby Old Man> > I'll tell you who I

am. . . . . As I sit here so still,> As I do at your bidding, . . . . . . As I eat at your will > I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . . . With a father and mother,> Brothers and sisters . . . . . . . Who love one another> A young boy of Sixteen . . . . With wings on his feet> Dreaming that soon now . . . . . . A lover he'll meet > A groom soon at Twenty. . . . my heart gives a leap> Remembering, the vows . . . . . That I promised to keep .> At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . . I have young of my own> Who need me to guide . . . . And a secure happy home > A man of Thirty . . . . . . . My young now grown fast,> Bound to each other . . . . With ties that should last> At Forty, my young sons . . Have grown and are gone,> But my woman's beside me . . . . . To see I don't mourn > At Fifty, once more, . Babies play ' round my knee,> Again, we know children . . .

.. My loved one and me > Dark days are upon me . . My wife is now dead > I look at the future . . . . . . . . . . . . I shudder with dread . > For my young are all rearing . . . . . . Young of their own .> And I think of the years . . . . And the love that I've known .> I 'm now an old man . . . . . . . . And nature is cruel .> Tis jest to make old age . . . . Look like a fool > The body, it crumbles . . . . . . . Grace and vigor, depart > There is now a stone . . . . . . Where I once had a heart > But inside this old carcass . . A young guy still dwells,> And now and again . . . . . . My battered heart swells > I remember the joys . . . .I remember the pain> And I'm loving and living . . . . . . . .Life over again .> I think of the years all too few . . . . . Gone too fast .> And accept the stark fact . . . . . . . That nothing can last > So open

your eyes, people . . . . . . . . Open and see..> Not a crabby old man . Look closer . . . . See . . . . . . . ME !!> > Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might> brush aside without looking at the young soul within . .> We will all, one day, be there, too! This would fit crabby old woman> too!> > > >