Look Away, Time
Once she was so pretty—
Now she tries to look not so old.
Can you still see her eyes sparkle
Beneath her hair of store-bought gold?
Have you found your one and only?
Hold on with all you’ve got,
Or like those who end up so lonely,
You may forget the grace you were taught.
He used to know so much—
Now he thinks he’s lost his place.
He still loves his son and family
Even though he’s not sure about my face.
Study as hard as you can
And master the skills you need,
But keep a hard eye on Time
Which flies by at a freight train’s speed.
I still think she’s a beauty,
Even with her store-bought hair.
And despite the wrinkles and the crinkles,
I love her; and the rest? I no longer much care.
Heading To Sunset Ridge
Heading to Sunset Ridge
Can’t remember your name
Can’t remember much about me
Everyone goes what a shame
Taking the turn around Memory Lane
Or is it Lost Pine or somewhere else
But can you still see my nice smile?
That far ringing? Are those my bells?
But I will sit on this here bench
Don’t know this path anyways
You’re my son or daughter?
They said it was one of his better days
Playing my part in the Long Long Goodbye
Just succeeded through these 7 years
No thank you for your sweetly offered hankie
But these are needed welcome relieving tears
Heading over Sunset Ridge
Everyone go “What a shame.”
My name is Mr. Still Loving Parent
At least, I think that was his name
–In humble salute to the loved ones of my wonderful patients, PEOPLE with alzheimer’s
Somewhere between the pain and the passion,
And the lies we tell ourself,
From “Hey, let’s go for it” on the way to
“Leave it on the shelf;”
When at last we lay me down to sleep
Did you take time to savor the flowers?
Did all your efforts lead to the Good?
Were less taken paths worth the long lost hours?
Meanwhile, Grandma floats in hospice,
She can’t hold onto your name,
But her late smile traces the eternal-
She’s always glad you came.
The angry drubbing from the cold January Sun
Has beaten all the trees’ leaves to the ground;
The peal by a distant neighborhood campanile
Offers but pastel respite from this new winter day.
After hours and an ankle breeze brushes cold
Times bear hard and thoughts scare appalling—
Late on a school night and we risk a third glass bold;
Excuse me, dear, but why is it hospice keeps calling?
Home—a far place unreachable, unknowable, except as
Errant memories allow.
Three score save one with 22 gray days to go,
Yet cannot believe one keeps falling.
Walked this way thousands of times but now…don’t…know,
But why does hospice keep calling?
Tomorrow comes to call as if knowing
Sweet Potato Praline 71
Insinuating bubbles emanated from the scuppered dragon
A fool’s bargain of untendered origin led us to just here
A poet’s lazily pulled rhymes flailed aloof on page one
A new path was desired, that much was perfectly clear
Could you loan me your smile since you’re not using it
Since my mood is lost in translation or nixed in transit
The meme of my distant daughter swears I haven’t Alzheimer’s
My phytonutrients seek softened skins and perplexity
Slices of hard orange sweet potato seek out boiling waters
But speeling is an acquired taste, marble at my dyslexity
Would you loan me your arms since you’re not using them
I’ve this tightness that rattles along with this morning’s phlegm
Heading happy back eastward on a defogged highway 71
Pralines and tourist cup delivered recorded on every tablet mile
But the aimless poet still cannot get off the floor of page one
Freezing rain means we’ll all meet here for quite a while
Could you loan me your eyes since you insist on not seeing
My arms and smile reaching for my most favorite human being