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The Old Folks Home
By Jon Westrick (March 2002)

To the old folks home, one day I went 
Such sadness there I found
Folks in the twilight of life
Uttering only the saddest sound
The sound of crying and moaning
For the better, fuller days gone by.
Does anyone sigh and cry for them?
These fallen, infirmed and frail?
Just lying around and lounging around
Their faces grown hollow and pale
Their heart seems alone and lost
Oozing away, their health does leak
For too soon, their days have passed 
Their bodies are brittle and weak.
Each one has the look in his eyes
The look of solitude and pain.
They look eagerly up at  each person
Who should happen chance walk by
For they  urgently yearn for someone
To take some small notice of them
To make them feel alive and new
Or just a moment to talk and spend 
To utter a kind word or flash a smile.
To sing old songs and stay awhile.
But alas, no one comes to talk today
The same as yesterday, it's always this way
The days drag along, all of the same
They watch the walls and watch the clock
Forever ticking, will it ever stop?
What do they have to hope for?
For what is it that they can look ahead?
Poor forlorn and forgotten old folks
Feeble and infirmed, fallen old folks
They have much more to hope for
than they ever could dream
More future in front of them
Than it possibly could seem.
One distant day, after they die
A resurrection will come
And from the coffins they lie
Their bodies will emerge
Out of the darkness and sand
And before our God 
And Christ they will stand
God will grant them all that they crave
Restore them their youth
And their lives He will save
For them such things are in store
And with our eternal God
They will be evermore.

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