LOSS

 

Loss

Her mind was once a treasury                   

of memories and learning.

She taught classics to a generation,

knew the Romans and the Greeks,

knew each bird by name and feather

and every weed and wildflower was stored

with love and labelled in her mind,

retrievable by Latin name

or old man’s beard, forget me not,

snapdragon , cuckoo pint or thyme.

 

Now mental bankruptcy looms,

her mind’s vaults unlocked and leaking

like the rusting hold of a sunken ship.

Her assets stored meticulously here

have been seeping through the cracks,

and watery fumes of lost recall

tease cruelly as they float away.

 

She feeds the birds and squirrels,

watches black cows in the field,

sees them gently browse,

knows she loves them,

counts them daily

but forgets the word for cows.

Early casualties are words;

now she calls the nuthatch

the upside down bird

 

© Daffni 2020
UKA Editor's Pick!
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TheRecluse

Brilliant in its simple descriptions, Daffni. I think the subject needs this unambiguous, sympathetic approach. The loss of intellectual status, the loss of familiarity with more recent life is accentuated so well in this fine writing.
TheRecluse

Last edited 1 month ago by TheRecluse
ChairmanWow

Yes, very lovely. I feel like someday i will feel myself slipping back to the elements.

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