Scenes from the geriatric ward

With apologies to Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

Oh please go gentle into that good night,
Old age should calmly yield at close of day:
Surrender to the dying of the light.

All wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because one man can make no difference they
Gladly go gentle into that good night.

Good men, if such there be, aware how slight
Their frail deeds mattered in the human fray,

Will welcome the dying of the light.

Wild men who fought for truth with all their might,
And found, too late, this made them helpless prey,
Slip with dignity into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who face their painful plight
Unburdened by the prospect of cold clay,
Embrace with grace the dying of the light.

Yet you, my father, a sad, raging sight
While other men around you fade away
And drift so gently into that good night,

Cling to your pointless life in puerile fright.

Why?