'This Is Your Home'

I am very old now, slumped in chair.

Of her face, I am no longer aware.

Is this even my home, don’t think so?

I recall my home, all those years ago.

But ‘I live here now’ is what they say.

Words they repeat 10 times a day.

I’ll be told again at bedtime for sure.

But I still dream of my old front door.

The morning comes, dressed and fed.

‘This is your home’ the first thing said.

Somebody to see me, face rings a bell.

That voice is familiar, but just can’t tell.

With a big hug and kiss, off she goes.

But why is she crying…nobody knows.


(the devastating effects of dementia)






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