preparing to leave me

the old, old woman

my friend

forgets to remember

more every day

talking like dreaming---

scraps of what's real

all stirred up

together

with things

that never were

doves in her mind

beating their wings

scattering

the pieces of her life

the sticky notes pasted

on the woman

she once was

she talks

and talks

her strong contralto

now breathy

and wavering

a haphazard tear

forms and rolls

ever so slowly

down her velvet cheek

once artfully painted

now exposed

her pride put aside

her wispy white hair

glittering silver still

hangs lank

and unattended

like a garden

of memories forgotten

she looks at me

closely

and clutches my hand

for a moment

as if to anchor

us to the present

then she tells me

about the friend

she once had

a long time ago

never suspecting

that I'm the one

she's talking about

"oh, the times

we had together"

she says

her eyes young

and bright

i nod and

i smile and think,

"oh, the times

we had together

indeed."

she loves

my memory

but she doesn't

know me

i've been fixed

in her mind

in another time

i mourn her passing

even as she talks on

remembering

forgetting

preparing

to leave me...

* * * * * * *