Forgotten
At ninety four or maybe ninety five,
he puts on his best bow tie
and a starched shirt,
now too big around the collar.
His clear blue eyes dance
in anticipation of this outing.
The round clock on the home's wall
clicks past the hour, then past the next.
His withered frame fidgets and droops
in the chair placed by the lobby window.
Still with watering eyes he watches
and waits ----------for his son to come ---------------------or maybe his grandson.-------- ---------------------- --- Judi Van Gorder
Inspired by Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen