Poem by a crabby old man

I have subscribed to a newsletter from http://philiphumbert.com a while ago. Mr Humbert sends a new letter every week with an inspiring and motivating content. Todays letter included a poem. 

An old man had died in a small hospital near Tampa, Florida, it was believed he had left of nothing value. Later, when the nurses went through his meager possessions, they found this poem. It so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

It's since made its way into many publications and websites, and this old man, with apparently nothing left to give, is the author of a poem that is touching millions around the world. I hope you enjoy it!

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? What do you see? What are you thinking when you're looking at me? A crabby old man, not very wise, uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food and makes no reply when you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try!" Who seems not to notice the things that you do, and forever is losing a sock or a shoe?

Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will, with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill? Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse, you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, as I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will. I'm a small child of ten, with a father and mother, brothers and sisters, who love one another

A young boy of sixteen with wings on his feet, dreaming that soon now, a lover he'll meet. A groom soon at twenty, my heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own, who need me to guide, and a secure happy home. A man of thirty, my young now grow fast, bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone, but my woman's beside me, to see I don't mourn.

At fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee. Again we know children, my loved ones and me.

Dark days are upon me, my wife is now dead, as I look at the future, I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing the young of their own, and I think of the years, and the love that I've known.

I'm an old man now and nature is cruel, 'tis jest to make old age look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart, there now is a stone, where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass, a young man still dwells, and now and again, my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I'm loving and living, life over again.

I think of my years, all too few, gone too fast, and accept the stark fact that nothing can last. 

So open your eyes, folks, open and see, not a crabby old man, look closer. See ME!! 
 
Remember this poem when you next meet someone who's frail, who's tired and weak. You might brush aside without looking too deep, at their young soul within, the life that they've lived, the desires of their hearts and the power of their dreams.