feathered cobwebs secreted
in the color of gray mist
thick as yellow turpentine
like filtered rays of sun
days longing to be kissed
light filters through
from a place called Spring
soft moments slipping away
brushing against your cheek
whispers fill the emptiness
playing amongst your dreams
settling in the hallways
hidden from sunlit streams
edges are tinged in sadness
as a funeral wreath displayed
before life was colored green
when the air was scent imbued
before time began falling away
a thief crept silently to you
as you felt a rush of air
as feathered cobwebs gathered
in the color of gray mist
now caught in memories’ lair
© November 2013
Renee Espriu
Photo by Karpati Gabor/Morgue File
A visit with my dad recently brought closer to home, once again, the dilemma of growing old and having memory problems. I find, at the age of 61, that I, myself, cannot remember sometimes the things I need to…that seem just out of reach. Dad was diagnosed with mild to moderate dementia and on good days, he is “spot on” as they say. But other days I can see the fog that settles in as he struggles to grasp those things that came so easily to him only a few months ago. He is in very good health and for that I am thankful but sometimes wish he was just a bit more of his old self. We have all adjusted as with time everything changes.
reneejustturtleflight.com 