Bathe me, change me, feed me pills
Blanket away all of my chills
Turn me, toss me, change the bed
Dab my dribble when I'm fed
Speak to me in that sing-song voice
Being helpless was not my choice
I once was young and fair and free
I travelled the world, had money you see
I wrote books of fantasy in far away lands
My mind was sharp and soft were my hands
I cradled my babies, gave them only the best
and this is where they laid me to rest
In the hands of strangers my life has been laid
My needs are all met, as long as you're paid
When making rounds next time, try not to see
the me who I am, but whom I once used to be
~~~~~

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh- this is in the hearts of many old bones and wrinkled skins. Very good work and the rhyme is good. Jane
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I see this kind of living almost daily. Your poem describes it well ((()))Peacefrog
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i worked in a nursing home for the longest time ( late stage alzheimer's ) & actually found myself with a preferrence to work with the geriatric population. i discovered them to be the greatest teachers about Life!
the following two lines:
"In the hands of strangers my life has been laid
My needs are all met, as long as you're paid ...." they are NOT always true. i was working with some of the most sympathetic & emphatic group of people. whenever someone passed away, someone was always crying. btw, good work! Drm

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Like fast-forwarding our lives to the inevitable end. Clear and vivid poem = Ben
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This is a very touching and well written poem.
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Like unto "The valley of Nis," by EAP.
~Cooker