Dementia Visited

I'm lost to you, Mother,
somewhere in a thought you can't hold.
There must have been stories
you never told.
Now it's too late.
What memories did you so hate?
Those memories will stay
your secret, family lore
and memories you'll make no more . . .
and memories you'll make no more.

by Evelyn D. Pometto

Other poems of EVELYN D. POMETTO (2)

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