I visit,
walk the long hallway
past the walkers and wheelchairs,
past the nurses bright with cheerfulness.
I bring chocolates to start off right.
Then we talk about politics, religion,
the meaning of life. We agree 
to disagree about some things.
Sometimes heatedly,
but it is better, you say,
than listening to TV,
or gossip about neighbors
you no longer remember.

You do not remember much anymore,
except the past. And see little,
except what’s inside.
A lifetime of memories and some regrets.
But in the end, grace and forgiveness
and not just a little stubbornness.