Her aging hands are folded
As she sits there in her chair
Another day spent all alone
And no one seems to care.

The years pass by so slowly
Her heart is filled with pain
Oh what she’d give to go back home
And see them once again.

Her name has been forgotten
The months have turned to years
Inside she’s died a hundred times
And cried a million tears.

Someone is there to see to her
She quietly waits inside
He gently beckons to her
Her arms are open wide.

She wanted so to see Him
And called to Him each night
The emptiness has disappeared
For now He holds her tight.

The nursing home is silent
No ailing voices call
No med carts, pills, or nurses
No wheelchairs in the hall.

Her aging hands are folded
The grace of God she’s known
With eyes now closed in restful sleep
He comes to take her home.

©2001 Marilyn Ferguson
http://www.marilynspoetry.com