Revolving Door Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Lately, sorrow fills a heart of love, because life has
taken a turn and somehow I've gone through a revolving
door, to a place not known before.
Over here I know my husband isn't the man I married.
He's so forgetful, so emotional with outbursts of rage
at times - screaming and hollering for no apparent
reason.
Leaving things around, not putting anything where it
belongs, tools, papers, dishes disappear - sometimes reappearing in unusual places.
To look at him, he seems no different than yesterday.
His smile is the same, his eyes still twinkle brightly
when he looks my way.
What happened in the interim? Where did common sense
and reason flee to?
It's frustrating trying to clean house, do dishes or
clothes, because no sooner than it's all done, he goes
behind me - I turn around and everything's a mess again.
Love is still pulsing through his heart for now, but
what happens when he forgets me altogether?
When I'm not even a memory in his mind, what then?