Magazine Posts

She says, "I love you"
over and over again.
I want to believe her
but I won't pretend,
for she remembers nothing,
of what she just said.

When I write,
I feel fine.
When the words stop,
will I remain kind?
I don't know.
Why am I asking you?
I'll keep on searching,
for it's what I do.
There are so many words,
but I will only use a few.

For want of some fun,
a brother died.
He Lived the good life,
what he tried.
Drinking booze and using drugs,
to his inside.
The abuse to his body,
trying to deride.
Too late was the recovery,
my brother died.

Long will I wander,
as long as I can,
to seek new adventures,
to see more of now
and ease the hurt,
when I don't know how,
to do it alone.

I believe my mind is
going through a progressive
stage of dry rot.
How do you contain the spread
of dieing cells within the brain.
There is no warning.
There is no pain.
So here, on this Earth,
I must stay and remain,
a humble servant,
with so much to explain.

My life is over,
once more, again,
As my emotions
are torn, into bits
from trying to discuss,
the medical history of my wife.
When she asked me ,
"What happened in 2013?"
I explained,
as best I could,
knowing what I said
would be misunderstood.
It was.

Once upon a midnight,
I was weary
and forgot to close the large garage door.
Someone stopped by for midnight shopping
and decided they like my golf clubs.
When I awoke the next morning I looked
out the window and saw three different
colored objects, that looked like my golf
hats which I had put on top of my late clubs.
I sit here now,not being teary for I hadn't
played golf for 4 or 5 years as I lacked the time
and was a full time care giver for my wife
who has Dementia.
I was going to sell the clubs as that is what
those who play at golf like to do. My only
regret was they took my YES putter which I
had grown sentimental about.
The value of the clubs as old as thesee wasn't
too high. Unfortunately the replacement costs
are close $2800. Oh well perhaps it is someone
who can make use of the idle equipment and enjoy
the benefit. Hope not but, please return my putter.

As we sat on the bed,
folding laundered clothes,
you looked at me
and said, "Are you my wife?"
I told you , I am
your husband.
I asked you if you knew my name?
Your said, "Joe" who is our oldest
Son. You tell me you love me
and I believe that you do,
but I am almost as confused
as I find in you.

I am falling asleep,
as I sit here and write,
so do not be impatient.
When I am slow to respond
to your questions,
you ask again and again.

Why must you go?
Why must you leave?
What are you saying?
Why must I grieve?

All memories dim.
Some fade from view
to be discovered again,
by a sight or "trigger"
which opens a
new route to,
a long forgotten event
or perhaps, a happening
and, like magic,
the memory is there.
Capture it now,
for memories can be
elusive and attempt to flee.

There isn't much I can say, about you,
which hasn't already been said,
except to say, "you look remarkably well,
for someone, who I thought was dead.
How many days have been lost,
since we both entered life's fray,
when we hung with each other
and dreamed of the historical day?"