The Memory Thief
Hello friends, throughout my life my sweet Mother has written poems to me. She would slip them in my birthday cards, or lunch sack, I even found one under my pillow. When I was older, she’d put poems on my bed. I would see them when I came home from school or work.
We often wrote poems together. We’d help each other write something beautiful, on a day when things were anything but. We could never find a rhyme for orange, but when we tried it always made us laugh.
She has Alzheimer’s now, (many of you know that) she no longer writes poems. But I still send them to her. She forgets she receives them, but I don’t mind. For the time I spend creating those few rhyming lines, I imagine her writing alongside me.
Today please indulge me as I share a simple poem I wrote about the thief that steals memories.
- A thief with hands unseen,
- Creeps in and wipes the mind clean.
- It doesn’t break a lock or seal,
- But plucks the memories that we feel.
- It starts with the little things, a name, a date.
- A simple word you can no longer state.
- A cherished face, a well-known tune,
- All stolen in the afternoon.
- Then little facts the mind had kept,
- Were quickly stolen while you slept.
- The thief won’t touch your jewels or gold,
- But steals the memories you dearly hold.
- It takes them all and lets moments pass.
- No memories saved, an empty glass.
- The world becomes a foreign place,
- A stranger’s voice, a nameless face.
- The past, a book with empty pages,
- A present lost in misty stages.
- A heart still loves, but a mind erases,
- But my love for you still embraces.
Wishing you all happy memory making.
Does anyone know how to remove the bullet points from this list?
