bring flowers
to the senior home.
the old are gathered around
a blurred
and loud
television.
a rerun of
fantasy island.
in varying degrees
of dementia,
some
rise as you enter
and think you're their
son,
or husband
bringing roses.
then the bell rings.
it's lunch again, a mere
two hours
since breakfast.
you wait
on the sofa for them
to waddle
back
to the raft that will
sail them
home.
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