365*238

I sit there as she talks to me

Wondering who she might be

She seems familiar like a face I've seen

Her voice speaks methodically

I don't quite grasp the words she says She keeps talking over my head

Her eyes meet mine asking for clarity

I can't help her for my mind as gone back to bed

She stares at me waiting for my reply

My words are tumbling out in a form I don't recognize

I stop mid-sentence wondering why

The words don't come again

She says another line

I stare at her through glazed eyes

She's a stranger to me I am positive

She seems so nice and so kind

I must know her from some time

Alas, I mumble incoherently and turn away

She's only a stranger I say

She's my daughter my child

Asking if I know her and her name.

 

I wrote that today because my grandma is slowly getting worse. At times, she says she doesn't know who my sister is if my mom is talking about her. She is my mom's mother and she hasn't forgotten her and I hope she never will so she is not as bad as my poem sounds, but it's sad to think that her mind is failing. Tonight she didn't know the difference between a knife, a napkin, and a spoon.

Done