Peach Pie

Without teeth, he gums his peach pie
Savoring the deep satisfaction of the taste
Taste of yesterday, aroma of sweet boyhood youth

His crooked glasses still dignify his weather face
Not much to say when enjoying a slice of peach pie
Enjoy peach pie

He eats his secret treat I sneak to him
Not proper for his diet
He is eighty-three with Alzheimer
One slice of pie won't be the reason
For his demise

In the corner of this massive Veterans Home
He smiles as he swallows the last gulp of his sweet treat
As I gently wipe the mush from his face
I feel the presence of another hand over mine
In within a wink of an eye, I see the pale image
Of my deceased mother shimmering in the shadows
Of an otherwise empty wing chair
Smiling


(11/01/2007)

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