Hello,hello¹she screams and shouts again
She wants the nurse to come she’s had bad dreams
She overdoes her calling makes them mad.
She wants to see her mother or her dad.
But now she’s 94 nobody’s left
She still looks from South to East to West.
Let’s go home she whispers to herself.
Oh,where is home when she has little wealth?
The husband’s dead her daughter sadly too.
T1he Carers have no time, what can she do ?
She thinks another lady fancies men
She envies her then envies her again
What about the man who barks and quacks?
What pointed grief what torture rushes back?
1
These modern lepers lack Lord Jesus touch
The old the blind the deaf no longer rich.
Dementia is an illness cruelly taxed.
They have to sell their houses that’s a fact.
If you’re ill where is the NHS?
Old and week be frightened, be my guest
How my heart sings 
Katheriine – this is so right on the money! Having cared for my Mother for 12 years I have seen all of the above and more. One of the most gruelling, cruel experiences I have had and witnessed. My friend Claudia visit. me this past week from France and she says it is the same there! We have to sell my Mother’s house to pay for her car at 5.000 per month! My Mother died almost six years ago, aged 95, and to be honest I am so pleased she is at rest and I, (the only child) can now sleep at night. I think it’s time for me to write a blog about this.
Your poem should be published….so many will relate to it. Janet XX
My reply has disappeared so I will have to do it again tomorrow but I’m very glad to know that this links into your own experience but sorry that you and your mother had to suffer that word it’s the hidden suffering t of society