You Still Know Me Poem by Alan balter

once they would have called you "feeble minded" or "senile, "
but now they say you're "demented"
not that it matters to me my friend,
because I call you Michael










You Still Know Me
once they would have called you "feeble minded" or "senile, " but now they say you're "demented" not that it matters to me my friend,
because I call you Michael
the nurses say you don't know me
but when I hold your quaking hand in mine and a crooked smile plays around your lips I know they're mistaken
not long ago we played our games
between sugar maple trees and a red brick building where they warehoused sheets of metal for some war instead of once brilliant men
and the day after, we went to college
where we learned the law yet still found time
to write poetry for pretty coeds with blond hair
and full lips who loved us in your rusty Studebaker
then somehow, it became today and I've come to visit you, as I will tomorrow, and your eyes will brighten because you still know me
my good and dear friend Michael























the nurses say you don't know me
but when I hold your quaking hand in mine and a crooked smile plays around your lips I know they're mistaken
not long ago we played our games
between sugar maple trees and a red brick building where they warehoused sheets of metal for some war instead of once brilliant men
and the day after, we went to college
where we learned the law yet still found time
to write poetry for pretty coeds with blond hair
and full lips who loved us in your rusty Studebaker
then somehow, it became today and I've come to visit you, as I will tomorrow, and your eyes will brighten because you still know me
my good and dear friend Michael