Poem - 02 August 2015, 00:22

Dying

Grey years are streaking
On my head, in these strands -
Like the mountain tops on
Which I live
Each follicle tells a story
Of the dementia

Suffering

So atop the great mountain
Looking down at the face
Sun strands wrinkle crease,
I do not even remember your name
"Nice to meet you"
Finds a place in your heart

There is not much time left
Maybe ten years at most
Cups of tea and
Armenian spice cake
Bright eyes for the present
Tomorrow must come

Dying

Dementia now atop the mountain
Looking down at life
Nothing obvious but innocence
Like a child I am
Playing in empty fields
Dying of dementia

Death

I had hoped for a different life
Yet God dished me this one
In my coffin every wrinkle stiff
As you held my hand
"Goodbye my love"
Tears run like rivers from your eyes

Grief

From heaven I see you
Shopping in the mall
Crying at night
Calling out my name
Why, why did you have to go
Why God dementia

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