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)