LIFE ON THE SCRAPHEAP
H. W. Bryce
To all who are stricken with disease
There she sits, yet sleek in her design,
Marred some say by life’s odd scrape and bump
Looking sad though still with life within
Trying to cope with life upon the dump
Once I raced the best of them, she sighed,
I was a winner among the greats
Now that I’m older they think I’m through
And they throw me on the old scrapheap
Life upon the scrapheap ain’t so grand
In this place there’s nothing much to do
People come and shake their heads
And whisper things like poor old you
It doesn’t help, the sympathy,
It doesn’t bring me back.
I wish I could re-start again
I’d beat you on the track.
There she sits with life that’s still within
Without a way to play life’s game again,
With thoughts no use though thoughts run deep,
It cuts cross-grain, life on the old scrapheap.
Alas, she sighs, I see you there,
I see you want to help.
If only I could speak again
You and I’d elope!
And I stand beside, I cannot hide,
As I deeply weep for her within
That fate and she had to collide
And land her in the scrapheap bin.
I turn and go with a heavy sigh
For our heady days that run so deep,
I rue the day they towed her away
And dumped her on that old scrapheap.
— REMEMBERING ANN
This poem is from page 94 in CHASING A BUTTERFLY. I am posting it here because January is Alzheimer’s Awareness Month.
Therefore, I will donate 20% of all sales to the Alzheimer Society.
CHASING A BUTTERFLY is available at:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Chasing-Butterfly-H-W-B…/…/1460299345
Friesen Press: https://books.friesenpress.com/…/H.-W.-Bryce-Chasing-a-Butt…
