Your Graces Have Grown Wild

your graces have grown wild

and I’m left picking the shards

of forgetfulness out of our heads

do you remember when we didn’t forget?

now dithering and lost among 

the ambling memory loss of old age

I’m quieter now than I ever was,

I have very little to say

am I lost for words? No!

conversation is overrated either way,

your graces have grown so wild

I can still feel the child inside, and

even though dementia has taken you

the love I felt has never died