Spent

The living hell of Alzheimer’s for all concerned.


 

      Spent - Stormwolf

It’s spent we are.

Though kicking wildly
against the traces of defeat.

Like late blooming flowers
overtaken by first bitter frost.
Our hopes lie cold within us.
Numb.

Futility stifles rogue words of comfort
or inspiration.
We sit in silence, bonded by love.
Staring bleakly
screaming inwardly
for the return of lucidity.

One last flame
to light the way
into nothingness…

Though not alone.

Spent.

© stormwolf 2020
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Daffni

Yes, a very perceptive poem. It made me think I would post my only one that touches the subject, writtn for a friend with alzheimers for her funeral. I’ll go and do it before i forget.

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