Talk
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Talk (Alzheimer's)
You don't talk well,
you barely say a word.
I have to do it all,
every time.
I have to carry the conversation,
I have to remind you about
the calendar,
appointments,
and brushing your hair,
and teeth
as well.
I miss your words,
I miss you looking at me,
when you spoke.
You were clear,
and precise.
You said funny things,
that made me laugh.
You said important things,
that made me cry.
The last thing you,
that I remember,
that you said...
was that you
were going to die.
Then you did.
First in your chair,
one day at a time.
Slipping away to somewhere else,
Someplace, I could not follow
or chase you down,
and bring you back.
Now,
we are still here together,
but I am all alone.
It is a prison,
of love.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2022
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