Never free

What am I looking for, what do i see?
This crippled old lady beckoning to me.
Please don't be embarrased, please don't be sad,
it is a pleasure to help, of which I am glad.
Fear not that i am busy, or it maybe a task
if you need me to help, please hasten to ask.

The gentleman beside you, what an amazing old man;
I learn of his life and his victories
as i read his care plan.
He was a war General, respected by all,
by his friends and his colleagues,
their names he can't recall.

As the years have passed by him
and his memory now faded,
he lives in a nursing home
feeling sad, out of control, sometimes feeling degraded.

His legs are arthritic, his hands just won't work,
he gazes for hours, sometimes refusing to talk.
He smiles to himself, quietly, as his mind takes him back
to a rose-covered cottage and then
to a cold, cold war shack.

He vaguely remembers his wife, and his now grown-up sons.
He wishes he could remember where he put his 'long-johns'.
He hears a familiar tune, but can't remember the words;
he tries in frustration to remember names of some birds.
The little old lady who sits down beside him
reaches out for his hands, and lovingly strokes them.
He looks at her face, trying to remember her name;
is it Constance, Emily, Molly or Jane?
He's not sure, so he starts at the beginning again.

The little old lady, gently stroking his hands
doesn't fret, nor she worries, simply tries to understand.
Her eyes well up, trying to attract his attention;
isn't old age and arthritis enough to contend with?
He eventually comes back, and looks tenderly at her
you see, for just a few seconds, he's free
of senile dementia