Greenwich Sentinel
By Peter Tesei
She Sits and Wonders Wh y
By Milton Schorr, Family Member
When I was one and thirty, to me a child was born.
Laughter was her trademark, vivacity her norm.
She grew to adolescence, a joy to see and hear,
Bubbly, bright, attractive, by one and all held dear.
When I was one and fifty, my little girl took ill.
A glowing lass whose promise, life never meant to fill.
“Schizophrenia,” said the little man, in tone abrupt, severe.
“How long?” I queried nervously, “a week, two months, a year?”
“Oft times forever,” droned the doc, in words that seared the soul,
As he pronounced her sentence, to life without parole.
Entrapped forever behind the bars of chemistry gone awry.
Sullen, lost, bewildered, she sits and wonders why.
And now I’m one and seventy, it’s oh, so lo