Today is brewing, steeping.
Clouds blur within my head.
Grass pricks feet like shards
or linoleum with eyes.
They’re supposed to be on faces.
And that song, Tiny Bubble, goes with a ukulele.
It’s yesterday again, or Tuesday tomorrow.
I shall pad to the upstairs water closet.
Run ocean waves until steam rises like fog
and drains clog with long dulcimer hairs.
I will slip under the sea
to become an anemone.
No one can miss me.
Because i have not been here
for a long long time.
lillian the home poet 
Oh my. Entering the mind of someone with dementia…painful and poignant.
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Can’t really “like” this — it is such a difficult and person-changing disease. Affects far too many, including the loved ones. So very difficult.
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An amazingly poignant write. My father has some dementia issues and thankfully to the good care of my sister has not progressed into something more but there was a point when I would think to myself, on one of his good days, “he’s still in there”, when his sense of humor would shine through. Lately he has been doing very well so sister is doing something right. Nicely done. 🙂
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Wonderful that your father is doing well now. It is such a difficult disease and so very hard to watch one slip into their own mind and away from what the logically present. Thank you for your very thoughtful comment and prayers for you and your family that all continues to go well.
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