I visited your grey face today. <br />Your not well, old friend, not well. <br />They say it’s spreading swiftly <br />Through your every curve and bend, <br />I examined you myself with cruel eyes <br />The world will never be able to mend. <br />You’ve changed all right. <br />What caused it? <br />All those years of over indulgence? <br />Should have seen it coming? <br />Well, perhaps… <br />Though it was bound to build up <br />And up and up and out. <br />I fear for you dear, alone and isolated <br />Out here on the west. <br />I had to leave you then <br />Like they soon will. <br />They said you needed to rest. <br /> <br />Outside, just beyond your stare <br />Yellow and orange daffodils grew <br />And fluttered in the long grass. <br />They used to be your favourites. <br />Mine too.<br /><br />Seán O Muiríosa<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-visiting-hours/
