Alzheimer's Stroll Poem by Vishorag Shadja

Strolling through the memories past,
Striding through the facade fast,
Staring at the rundown building,
Getting warm through fire smoldering.

Fire that burns and chars the inside,
Calm and unruffled from the outside,
Depicted by the hint of silver hair,
And the crow feet with lines of despair.

Like the guest who's uninvited,
Arrives despair, long ago sighted.
Having nowhere to go, is true,
There is no one to save me, but you.

Music that was once soothing,
Now sets me off revolting,
Trying to find that one music note,
I try to dissolve the knot in my throat.

Starting to wonder what's today's date,
I could hear my heart's increasing rate,
Listening to a loudspeaker I try to wade past,
The big crowd, like a discarded outcast.

Someone pulls my frail wrist,
Unable to see the face amidst,
The crowd soaring in undue happiness,
Trying to escape from their sadness.

I come to face my aggressor,
Beautiful girl is that oppressor,
Unable to recall knowing that face,
I smile with only a grimace.

‘Why would you go out by yourself? '
She, ‘You don't have a sense of self'
‘Come here let me hold your hand'
‘Don't try to explore an unknown land'.

Guiding through the crowd fast,
Strolling through the faded past,
Striding along the rundown building,
Only her hands, oozed a warm feeling!