It's Cruel and It's Sad

Friends phone and ask
How is she today?
Doing just great
Sitting beside me I say.

She loves to sit
In her favorite chair 
And stare at the door
Hoping someone is there.

I gave her that rag doll
From my childhood days,
I sensed she remembered
But no words could she say.

Of course when she speaks
It makes no sense,
When she stares out the window
She's praying for death.

None of us have control
Over our tomorrows,
It's hard to feel alive
When surrounded by sorrow.

It's cruel, and it's sad
Can't more be done?
For this alzheimers's patient
Who once was my Mom.


Lynn Barany
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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