I walked with you again today
hand in hand
down the sterile hallway,
as you slowly shuffle
your way through this maze.
You squeeze my hand
a signal I slowly learned
was how I could gauge your mood,
since it had been years since
you have said a coherent word.
The nurses watch this odd couple,
the frail and the young
the patient and the physician
pace these hallways
day after day.
I learn with time
the subtle reality
that no medicine
in my vast armamentarium
will quell your agitation
as much as the subtle act
of holding out my hand
and taking a walk
down these hallways
once again.
