Smoke and Mirrors

In a perfect world . . .

Cry for Her

love, memory, alzheimers, marriage

As a crescent butter moon sets and the soul searing sun of the morning rises into an indigo sky
the days and nights endlessly bleed into one another like so many forgotten dreams
creating one sad and lonely heart, the shattered pane of a window in
an already fragile life that time seems to have forgotten.
the clock strikes ten, he’ll lay in bed and stir
and he will cry for her . . .

62 is a number he used to know but now he’s innocently unaware of its significance
it was a day so long ago, a crystal blue frozen moment in time that is elusive
to a cobwebbed place that once inhabited sweet thoughts, wooden cribs to be built and fighting ships on the oceans of his forever’s but
the clock strikes ten, and then again
he will cry for her . . .

She loves the man, the 62, but she knows she’s only human too
her tired eyes, her daily goodbyes, her love for the man she thought she knew
She goes to bed, rest her weary head, dreaming sunny memories of days gone by,
while never wondering why
she will still cry for him . . .

For H&G  . . .


1 Comment

  1. I hate Alzheimer’s disease.
    This is beautiful and makes me so so sad.
    I miss my dad.
    I hate watching my mother trying to understand this disease.
    It’s killing her too.

    I understand.
    I wrote this not to make you sad but to illustrate the strength in
    the ties that still exist between your Mom and Dad.
    If these ties don’t illustrate true love then nothing does.
    I miss your Dad too.
    And there are still moments when he’s so there.
    You just have to catch them.
    He loves you so much it’s almost silly.
    As does your Mom.
    I am here. Always.

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