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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365655" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Age Rage</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was wandering through the Nursing Home<br>In the town of Morton Rise, <br>Seeking an old and weathered face <br>That I'd known in another guise, <br>For Richard Spratt was my father's friend<br>That I hadn't seen for years, <br>I was going to let him know his friend<br>Had taken a turn for the worse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The eyes that stared from the armchairs there<br>Were blank, and devoid of pain, <br>They'd taken the pills that dulled them down<br>So they wouldn't be restrained, <br>The nurses treated them all as fools<br>This gross humanity, <br>Whose only sin was they'd given in<br>To age, and infirmity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was all so very depressing, I<br>Imagined my future there, <br>Staring in immobility<br>From the prison of one of their chairs, <br>Waiting my turn to be spoon-fed<br>By a very impatient nurse, <br>Who shovelled the food all over my chin<br>As I sat, and inwardly cursed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wandered the home there, room by room<br>In search of his friendly face, <br>This Richard Spratt in a cricketer's hat<br>I remembered from Ambergate, <br>He'd batted a decent fifty, while<br>My father polished the ball, <br>And took five wickets alone that day<br>In his bowling, over all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was nigh on forty years before<br>That I'd watched them play as a child, <br>Out on the green at Ambergate<br>With the weather, warm and mild, <br>But the years dismay as they pass away<br>And my father grew so old, <br>Now he lay in bed in a kind of dread<br>As the bell of his lifetime tolled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I said that I'd find his friend for him<br>And let him know, at the last, <br>That he was remembered, thick and thin<br>For a friendship, forged in the past, <br>There were days when they both had sunny skies<br>And met each day with a grin, <br>But time drew shrouds like storm-filled clouds<br>And the end was looking grim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard a shout from a private room<br>And went to investigate, <br>Quite a commotion in the gloom, <br>I hoped I wasn't too late, <br>And there was a nurse stood over him<br>In a wheelchair, Richard Spratt, <br>He'd thrown his meds all over the room<br>And sat in his cricketer's hat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘You know what to do with your pills, you witch, '<br>He shouted, and turned to see<br>Just who was stood in the doorway, I<br>Was grinning from ear to ear, <br>‘Well I'll be… You can get out of here! '<br>He said to the wayward nurse, <br>Who said, ‘If you're going to be like that…'<br>And left the room, with a curse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I told the news of my father then<br>And I swear, he sat and cried, <br>Just a couple of tears escaped<br>That he hid, he still had pride, <br>‘Life is a trail of sorrow, son, <br>But we're all on the same long train, <br>Your dad and I in the tunnel, while<br>Your carriage is still on the plain.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> ‘What do you value of life the most? '<br> I saw the pain in his eyes, <br>‘Youth was that great and precious thing<br>That with age, you realise! <br>I'd give it all for an hour to spend<br>In the glow of my lady's eyes, <br>The touch of her skin and a hint of sin<br>But the thing that we love, it dies! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘I've often thought of those balmy days<br>On the green in our cricket whites, <br>And think I hear the crack of the ball<br>On the willow of sweet delight, <br>I remember your father's terse ‘Howzat! '<br>When he scattered another's bails, <br>Now I sit in this prisoning wheelchair, here<br>And all I can hear are wails.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘Wails from the ones who want to die, <br>Wails that they want to live, <br>The future is lost to the best of us<br>We have but the past to give.<br>You'd like to know how I feel right now, <br>Like a leopard, caught in a cage, <br>If only I could be young once more…<br>But all that I feel is rage! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">4 October 2012</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365655" data-title="Age Rage de David Lewis Paget" data-description="I was wandering through the Nursing Home
In the town of Morton Rise, 
Seeking an old and weathered face 
That I'd known in another guise, 
For Richard Spratt was my father's friend
That I hadn't seen for years, 
I was going to let him know his fri..."></div>
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