Fugue

A swiftly failing memory
cast in hues of black and sepia
an 8 MM movie
flickering shadows on a blank screen
caught between imagination and reality,
life becomes a deep dark dream.

And in this fugue mental state
when a mind is fading, waning
thoughts move like sliding doors
on a dirty rusted iron track
getting caught in all the debris
of insignificant memories.

And then there are those days
when the mind is crystal clear
and the lovely music of yesterday
still wafts on the fragrant air
remembering those you hold dear
before in darkness, they slip away.

©2019 Linda Lee Lyberg

Author’s Note: This is how I imagine Alzheimer’s to be. My mother had some dementia in her later days, but I am grateful she never forgot me or my husband.

Linda Lee Lyberg is a wife, mother, artist, published poet and author. She resides in Mesa, AZ with her husband Pete (aka The Big Viking) of 24 years, and her dog, Ricky Bobby. Linda writes various forms of poetry, as well as short stories. You can read more of her works at: charmedchaos.com
and purchase anthologies containing her work here: Amazon Author Page

5 Comments on “Fugue

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