Miscellaneous:

[santui]

Her steps are heavy
As walks to the spot
Her frown reflects her mind’s perpetual knot.
She stops and stares
Then retraces her steps
Her chest heaves as she struggles to control her breath
“This is where I left it
This is where it should be.
On my way to school, or was it work?
I closed the door behind me
No. no. I didn’t forget .
Then I walked to the corner….”
In her mind the illusory plays
As her feet takes her back
She relives the years.
“Did I put on the kettle?
I could do with some tea
But why is that car parked where my kitchen should be?”
There are tears of frustration
On her weathered cheeks
And some spill from the man
Watching her from across the street.
“Good heavens I’m tardy,
It’s quarter to 3
I must make Harold’s dinner
Who moved my TV!”
She takes up her bag to hobble away
Caught still,
In her minds foray.
The man catches up with her and extends a hand
She smiles up at him but her eyes are bland
She sees only a kind stranger who met her by chance
Not her son who waltzes with her
To Alzheimer’s Dance

I thought that this piece was first class story telling, it had a bit of everything, sadness, confussion, funny at times and heartbreaking too. well done and much enjoyed.

Paul

edited by MsJacquiiC:
in-depth critiques in The Critique Saloon only please unless requested by author