Wednesday, January 6, 2010

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
with things
that never were

doves in her mind
beating their wings
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
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

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
to leave me...

* * * * * * *

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