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Posted by MFish

There sat a small bird.
I'll call him Fred.
No chirping songs heard.
Hopping around on the deck,
Seeing something; making a peck.
Got my sack of seed,
Scattered some on wooden planks.
After awhile Fred is back,
Looking at me and my sack
Of bird feed, held in hand,
Acting like he is now
in his own promised land.

When the evening light, turns to black,
It's the time for a memory lapse.
Not recalling names of long lost friends,
Or remembering places we went to, often.
The sense of loss of her mind, I feel
Afraid for her, in this life surreal.
"Weep not for me", she's said before,
As we trudge towards that fateful door.
The cruelty of this disease, to me
Astounds my view of the lost memory.

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