Don't Let Me Die Alone

Don't let me die alone
Away from everyone that knows me past my ID bracelet
Endless hallways lined with numbered doors
Metallic bedside manners and echoed emptiness.
Don't let me die alone.
By myself before being boxed away and laid to rest.
By myself where exchanged pleasantries are hello's and goodbye's
Rather then good morning and good night's.
Don't let me die alone.
You get tired of waiting for visitors that don't come.
You miss out on invitations to come by for the holidays.
You start to lose hope.
Hoping that maybe the grass is greener on the other side.
Don't let me die alone.
Put me in the attic or the basement.
Or the room with no windows on the far side of the house.
Somewhere I can ask for a hug.
From someone other then the stainless steel bars that keep me in place at night.
Don't let me die alone.
I'm telling you this now while my eyes are still brown and clear.
Before cataracts sets in and they turn Gray.
Like Alice through the looking glass I'm still here.
I can see you.
And I'm asking you while I can.
Please don't let me die alone.
Fawn over me while combing my hair.
Or wrap me up in that blanket before it gets stolen.
But don't put me away
Away from all the little reminders of why I should stay here.
Away from front porches with grandkids.
Or playing bingo at The Center down the street.
I might get in the way and I'm sorry.
I just want to be around
I want to stay a little while longer
I know I have to go one day
I'm not fighting that
I just don't want your last memory of me to be you answering the phone.
I'm sorry Sir, your Aunt died.
Alone

R.I.P
Alice Gray
9/25/12 - 1/30/07

© February 2007
Staats