A Poem a Day (215): Misted minds

The subject of this poem is Alzheimer’s disease and memory.

Misted minds

 

I conjure up this supple mist in stages.

We write, we draw, we freefall down

To collect the things we want to own.

I offer you a glass and you take it,

The comfort in the giving of the thing.

But you reside with ghosts of this passing,

This unreflected penchance for tears.

I follow you down corridors pitch black

Where your mind hatches creatures of the night,

But you don’t recognise one thing you see.

Just know you’re being observed by me.

I think you feel I will keep you safe somehow,

The ‘somehow’ in this sentence lost in mime.

Silk white feathers draw out a carpet for us,

So light it rises to float in this air we breathe.

This forgetting game, can we survive it all?

This unreflected penchance for tears.

I see you lose yourself here alone at times,

Your restless thoughts build more corridors,

More than your labyrinthine mind can allow.

We will explore them all before we return.

I know you won’t be the same, but there’s hope

In the fact you won’t remember anything bad at all.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 18, 2020