The Forgotten Elderly

They were left behind
like empty carts in a now empty parking lot.
Once touched, then guided by sure hands
doing for others, sometimes in steady sun,
or picking up the pace in life affirming rain.
They weathered storms until they could not.
And now they sit, in that mawkish pool of wet,
that sickening smell of decay.
They sit in a place where no one comes,
drowning in their memories.


Photo by Janet Webb. Written for the incomparable Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers where we’re asked today, to respond to Ms. Wolf’s photo in 100 words or less. Word Count: 71. ┬áRochelle: please excuse the free verse┬árather than fiction today!


Memory spiders twirling thoughts.
Nurse-white whisper shoes
sidle by. Clocks in freezer
stopped time when I knew me.
Thawed too fast, so they came
in loud tapping shoes.
And we danced ourselves into lucidity,
spotlight shining bright.
I remember tomorrow
like it was yesterday.

FullSizeRenderQuadrile 1 for dVerse Pub for Poets. Word count 44, using a form of the word dance – as in dance into a condition.