This poem is a true story, written for & dedicated to a very special person in my life. Without him, I wouldn't have one.

He became the chosen one, the only one, to step into these shoes,
Shoes that took him walking through, decades of verbal abuse.
An aging widowed Mother, disabled and forlorn,
A Son who loved her still and hence... a Caretaker is born.


He fought a lonely battle, against an injured mind,
Mental illness was the enemy, the cruel and heartless kind.
So much love invested... tested... to the edge of his control,
Yes... he was the Caretaker, of his Mothers' tortured soul.


Months turned into years and soon the years would pass him by,
But like a rock he stayed there, loyal, till the day she died.
A heart as big as heaven, sometimes lost in burdens' task.
Yes... he was the Caretaker, of his Mothers' tortured past.


Who was this evil entity, who held all he'd been denied,
When was the day it came and stayed, changing both their lives.
Verbal slashes to the heart, repeating time after time,
Yes... he was the Caretaker, of his Mothers' tortured mind.


Devoted to the parent, he recalled from years that passed,
Still reaching for the Mother, lost behind this strangers' mask.
Battle scars etched in his mind, reflecting through tired eyes,
Yes... he was the Caretaker, of his Mothers' tortured life.


COPYRIGHT©2003 BONNIE TORRENTE