Protecting my marbles

Oh how I miss my memories, those happy days I shared with you..I always dig them out again whenever I feel blue..tho they aren’t that far away just somewhere in my head, I’d hate to loose my marbles.. that is something that I dread

But that dreaded day could come when my marbles ooze from inside my brain, they have fallen out the slots of self-awareness, never to fit in again..
If that happens to me, tho I hope it doesn’t for a while, my Father had Alzheimer’s and my dear Mother went senile..they do say these things are hereditary, passed down from your genes.. so although I try my damndest to stay healthy, yet my parents DNA chromosomes intervenes

Mind you surely all this creating poetry which is my latest fad, should somehow help me with dementia, stop me from going mad..so until the dreadful day hits me with my marbles all over the place with that lost expression in my eyes and blank look upon my face.. I shall conjure up creativity from amidst my imagination.. polishing and protecting my marbles to prevent   mental malformation