Waiting

I remember you laying and listening
to the squeak of rubbered footsteps
as they walked the wide white halls,
remember your eyes moving to see

who it was that strode along
with such purpose, who entered
with such poise. I remember
the water held there, in your eyes

when the nurse lifted the blankets
and checked to make sure
your feet were warm, to make sure
that the skin that sagged over your bones,

was warm. I remember wondering if you
could feel their touch, their caring,
if you knew that they loved you too.