Knock At the Door
Exhausted for days and nights
of caring, for the wanderer-patient;
I heard a knock at the door.
The many sleepless nights, left me in a brain-fog;
the knock awoke me from a migraine-faint.
My patient-father wandering;
oblivious to the fact that, I had fainted;
had no idea, that his sitter had arrived.
To an Alzheimer’s caregiver,
it’s the tiny things that matter;
like someone arriving to provide respite,
when you’ve not slept for nine days and nights.
A simple knock at the door,
takes on a whole new meaning;
especially, after the migraine,
has set up its camping tent
inside of your brain.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014
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