Alzeheimers
Cold, dark, detached, forlorn.
One day I know you.
The next I mourn
I'm feeling lost, so tell me what to do...
Why does my mind play hide and seek?
When my chores I need to complete.
Why does everyone ask, "Who am I"?
Today I don't know the when, the where, the why.
This little girl wants to go home.
Into my Mother's arms soft and warm.
They say I'm so very old,
This is not what I want to be told.
In and out of this chasm of dread.
Am I unhinged or is it exasperation?
Does anyone know what lies ahead?
Thinking and floating in Alzeheimers ruination.
copyrights of
Georgette Helton
05/96 - 2002