Buried Memories Poem by poppy miller

He's standing at the window; bird watching.
His shoulders drooping, his back bent;
The dark hair now grey and thinning,
His youthful energy spent.

His once fitting trousers now bag,
Comforting his legs now bent and thin.
Bony arms, one bearing a skintag;
Liver spots mark his skin.

He turns, his eyes on mine stare
Vacant; those eyes once blue,
Time doesn't seem to hold a care.
No. Such preservations are few.

My heart grieves as I search his face,
Looking for the spouse that I once knew.
Is he resting in some other space,
Dreaming dreams anew?

I mourn my lover; our lost passion,
The laughter, mentor, faithful friend.
Such a giver, not knowing ration
Not knowing what lies around the bend.

I call to him; he grasps my hand
And smiles the smile that lights a room;
But the fear of lost memory takes its stand,
Pray, who created this hideous doom?

I hold him (scorning this disease)
And sooth him with a song of love;
All is gone now, (no memories)
Though what still remains - is love.

January 8th 2016