Sometimes we wonder what those we love are thinking as they lay in bed waiting to enter heaven with their eyes closed and unable to talk with the family members gathered around. I stayed with a client of mine when he slipped into a coma shortly before he died. I was working as a case manager for a geriatric mental health clinic at the time. After he passed away, I sat down that night and wrote this poem. I really believe that the elderly that are laying in silence, awaiting there trip home, are still thinking and talking to God, and can hear those around them. We can't forget that they can still hear before the end.
 
 My Knees Are Worn Down
 
 ~ by Earl D Waggoner, Jr
 
 My knees are worn down
 
 From the prayers that I've said
 
 A worn piece of carpet
 
 Here by my old bed
 
 
 The mirror on my dresser
 
 Settled and unclear
 
 I guess from the tears
 
 It's seen from my fear
 
 
 The patter of grandchildren
 
 Whispers of my kids
 
 Smells of fresh gravy
 
 The clatter of lids
 
 
 Things that I did
 
 In my youth are so clear
 
 Yesterday's memories
 
 Lost as I hear
 
 
 I open my eyes
 
 See only dark gray
 
 To see what they look like
 
 Hear what they say
 
 
 The wish of an old man
 
 Wasted and worn
 
 Wishing sometimes
 
 I'd never been born
 
 
 The carpet's all worn
 
 My sight is a blur
 
 My hearing's all gone
 
 My knees are both sore
 
 
 My only friend, Jesus
 
 The angels He sends
 
 To hold this old hand
 
 And take me to friends
 
 
 Ones that have gone
 
 That I miss more than life
 
 To be free in the heavens
 
 Free from pain and from strife
 
 
 Then thoughts of my friend
 
 Jesus Christ is his name
 
 Comes to my heart
 
 My mind and the same
 
 
 Feeling of warmth
 
 I've felt when I pray
 
 Comes over this body
 
 Pain goes away
 
 
 I asked Him to come
 
 In my life long ago
 
 When life wasn't kind
 
 And I was so low
 
 
 He stuck by my side
 
 Ever since that sweet day
 
 Through the tears and the laughter
 
 And now that I'm gray
 
 
 I have faith that He'll take me
 
 With Him up above
 
 No more pain will I feel
 
 No more lacking of love
 
 
 Take me home, sweet Jesus
 
 From this old rotted bed
 
 My knees are worn down
 
 From the prayers that I've said
 
 
 The carpet's all worn
 
 My sight is a blur
 
 My hearing's all gone
 
 My knees are both sore
 
 
 My only friend, Jesus
 
 Is here by my side
 
 To hold this old hand
 
 And take me for a ride
 
 
 To the heavens I'll go
 
 To see ones that I've loved
 
 That I've missed more than life
 
 To my home up above
 
 
 To be free in the heavens
 
 Free from pain and from strife
 
 Take me home, sweet Jesus
 
 End this old body's life