Old Man Through a Window
Standing in the mist of a recent rain
I peer through the parted curtains
Of an old man's window.
The color images from his TV
Create flat entertainment.
Bottles of pills lined up
Like soldiers next to his bed
Keep guard against the pain.
The bedpan, all shiny and silver,
Sits on top of a shelf
Like a misplaced knick-knack.
The worn cotton blanket has been tucked
Tightly around his thin frame
By loving hands.
His gnarled fingers grip the remote
With a fierce determination
As he flips from station to station
In search of something interesting.
Surrounded by the misty fog
I watch this old man lying on his bed
Watching TV
Waiting to die.
Roy W. Backes
© 1997
Roy W. Backes - Poetry 