jambalacha
New member
Forgetting
It is fearful to enter the room of one who cannot remember
sometimes they think it is christmas, even when not yet december
will they stroke my hand softly, sweetly, remembering youth?
will they scream and hate me, fighting nail, fist and tooth?
the souls of centennial beings tied to the brittle
decades of wisdom clouded by remembering too little
worse, secrets long buried, held and protected
now casually blurted by minds chronically defected.
It is fearful to enter the room of one who cannot remember
sometimes they think it is christmas, even when not yet december
will they stroke my hand softly, sweetly, remembering youth?
will they scream and hate me, fighting nail, fist and tooth?
the souls of centennial beings tied to the brittle
decades of wisdom clouded by remembering too little
worse, secrets long buried, held and protected
now casually blurted by minds chronically defected.