Older Poems from the Pen of Olan L. Smith

What Will Tomorrow Bring?

What Will Tomorrow Bring?

©2010, Olan L. Smith

Nightmarish — frightening—

Everything is strange — I raise my head to a bright glare — very stark—

Naked cleanliness — shiny steel reflects radiance into my eyes. I shade my face as three

Silhouetted humanoids approach with determination — I hear their idle chatter, as they

Stride with confidence toward my stainless steel bed — they speak words I understand.

Out of the trio, a leader addresses me—

It is a tall, thin, woman-shaped being, dressed in white that blends into a whitish light.

Is she human? Have I been abducted? Where am I?

"Mr. Smith? How are you this morning?"

I reply, "Where am I? Who are you?

Where have you taken me?"

"Yes, Mr. Smith. You know me — I am Amy your day nurse.

This is New Haven Center for the Aged.

You have been here for five years—

You ask the same question every morning, Mr. Smith—

It's the one thing I can count on,"

She said with a huge grin.

"Now, it's time for you to take your meds,

Get ready to eat, Mr. Smith, and then — its group time, won't that be fun?"

With that she stands straight, turns—

One, two, three — they  all rotate, and walk away into the glare,

Like soldiers on parade she leads the way.

Hmmm — I think to myself — she knows my name—

I don't remember much about who or what I am.

I wonder if they have probed my mind or worse.

I guess I'll do as she says, or be their lunch.

This evening when I sleep, and if it be my fate,

I shall ever slumber;

With short chortles through the night, no matter what darkness brings,

I am a foreigner in this place, everything is altered — I suppose?