Dementia Mother. Poem by Angharad Davies

I don't remember,
Where has it gone?
Did the wind whistle in and take it?
Did you see it?

What time did you say?
I am never that age!
You're wrong, he will come back to me.
I am cooking his favourite tonight.

It's like the egg timer thing
All those little grains of sand
are slipping from my hand
I try to catch them, but end up losing more.

My daughter! Where?
You?
No way!
One of us is really losing the plot!

The teacher told me,
And daddy always makes sure...
And i drink all my milk.
I want my mammy!