The following poem was given to us by Sharon Folkner of Altrissa, "An Alzheimer's Haven," in Plano, Texas (a home for all stages of Alzheimers' patients). It was written by Becky Peterson, whom we believe to be in Colorado. If you know her, we'd love to talk with her. Anyway, here's the poem:

A Nurse's Poem

For my friends, getting pregnant is

all the rage,

But I cradle the children of a

different age.

Gray are the heads that rest on

my breast,

my arms around those who are taking

last steps.

Where words have lost meaning from

hearing too much,

my lullabies are sung in the language

of touch.

Coming full circle, back to diapers

and tears, the faces I coo at wear the blanket

of years.

My nurturing is done without giving

birth,

to the children heading back,

to the womb of the earth.

Their bodies contract to a fetal

position,

preparing themselves for the birth of

transition.

By Becky Peterson