What I Know About Alzheimer's

[71degrees]

Original Version
I’ve always wondered
when father dreamed,
whether he remembered the names
of his grandchildren, whether he ever
left a path and wandered away,
yet was able to return,
even in a pouring rain

He’s buried now with a playground
beside his cemetery, with a headstone
etched in name and numbers so others
will remember, even if he couldn’t

His last years were sand, a gift
to be taken away; Alzheimer’s
was how his distance widened,
how the voices and names moved
farther and farther away

Sometimes, when I watched him,
I wondered whether he was ashamed
that he had been dreaming at all


Edit #1
What I Know About Alzheimer’s

I’ve always wondered
if father dreamed, did he remember
the names of his grandchildren

He’s buried now with a whirligig
beside his urn, a headstone etched
in his name and dates so others
will remember him, even if he couldn’t

His last years were beach sand,
a gift to be taken away; Alzheimer’s
was how his distance widened,
how all the names moved
farther and farther away

Sometimes, when I visited, I wondered
whether he was ashamed he could dream
at all.