What do you see, nurses,
 what do you see?
 What are you thinking
 when you're looking at me?

 A crabby old woman,
 not very wise,
 Uncertain of habit,
 with faraway eyes?

 Who dribbles her food
 and makes no reply
 When you say in a loud voice,
 "I do wish you'd try!"

 Who seems not to notice
 the things that you do,
 And forever is losing a
 stocking or shoe.....

 Who, resisting or not,
 lets you do as you will,
 With bathing and
 feeding, the long day to fill....

 Is that what you're thinking?
 Is that what you see?
 Then open your eyes, nurse:
 you're not looking at me.

 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 girl of sixteen,
 with wings on her feet,
 Dreaming that soon now
 a lover she'll meet.

 A bride 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 woman 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 husband'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 husband is 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 woman ....
 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 vagueness
 where I once had clarity

 But inside this old carcass
 a young girl 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,
 nurses, open and see,
 Not a crabby old woman;
 look closer ... see ME!!

 Anonymous

Story Behind The Poem