The Rest Home.

Oh my child,
You are here at last
To visit me in these white
walls of hell
where the food is tasteless
and salt does not exist.
And a close watch
Rests on every head.

I thought you
had forgotten me
Or left me here to die.
How goes the family?
How goes the life I seem
to be missing?
Do your children miss
having me around?

I thought you had
forgotten me, my child.
But I will not forget you.
No, not so long as I shall live.
I suppose I understand why you
did what you did, though
I admit sometimes I feel lonely
and sometimes I wonder what
it would be like
if
if I
if

Oh!
My child!
You are here at last.
I thought you had
forgotten all
about
me.