Daniel Larson Poet Rhyme

Alzheimer's Curse

Yesterdays condemn him
     to many a long, lost thought;
Blood on the finger tips
     remind him of battles fought.
The open lands behind
     are engulfed by endless storms,
And for now life itself
     will be seen in diff'rent forms.

Through a distant window
     there burns, faintly, an old lamp,
It's a sign of welcome
     for those with no place to camp.
Food is ever present
     as is a large fire place;
All that is asked of them
     is they leave behind no trace.

Many are still walking
     upon a deserted road;
Each one carries stories
     that for now are left untold.
They'll not release secrets
     and rarely mention a name,
Yet they move through shadows
     without favor, without shame.

It's like he's lost to time,
     been caught up in winds of change,
Still searching for footprints
     which lead o'er the sandy plains.
He's just seen the window
     that holds the flickering light,
And prays he will be blessed
     to make it there on this night.

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