Some things are meant to fall to the ground
Each true to its season — leaves in fall
Rain in spring — and Howard’s clothes which line the hall
Between A-Wing and the Dining Hall and around
To the Lobby where he is often found
Without his shirt or pants, standing tall
Perfectly happy, without a stitch or care at all
In this world to which he is still unaccountably bound
By God who stole his wits but not his soul
And kept his aged body strong to walk
With child’s steps now wobbly now strong
In a walker while reciting word for word whole
Prayers and sacred liturgies, the holy talk
Of fiery angels who encircle God in sacred song.

Lewis Eron

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-h-r-now-resident-in-a-nursing-home-a-sonnet/