Over well worn pathways,
these weathered pachyderms have come,
unseen forces beckoning.
All seem to find their way here…
ivory long faded yellow,
gray turns white,
dermis folded, sagging.
They walk the walk of the ancients;
all who came before,
those who will come after.
Another rite of passage
among so many they have borne
It’s said they never “forget,”
but memory is subjective:
lost somewhere beyond
hidden plaques and tangles
their lives unravel—
and so they travel this road,
hoping for peace at journey’s end.
© Ginny Brannan 2016
*Plaques and tangles are part of the Alzheimer's puzzle.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.