My Nurse

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Ah! She comes between me and my white barren walls,

Sometimes solemn, sometimes smiling,

Standing, staring, sometimes softly

Touching while she sings

Not well though, she does not seem to know

I hear her singing,  nonetheless, it is better

Than the absence of song

I had before she came into my room

She used to feed me with a spoon

And hold my cup up to my lips

So that I might take a sip

She wiped the dribbling shame from cheek and chin,

So I might grin with dignity again

Does she remember me?

Does she know that I remember her?

At times, I feel that I am just part of her occupation

At times I feel that I am so much more

She feeds me now though through a tube

It’s not the same and yet it is

I can’t explain just how it is

She accepts it, and so must I

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