This poem is dedicated to my father-in-law who is suffering from dementia and Parkinson's Disease.
Face turned to the high window,
Looking inwards or outwards,
God only knows,
I walk to your chair,
You turn and peer at me,
Show a glimmer of recognition,
Like spotting a meteor,
Familiar yet alien,
And from my pocket
I take a tube of pastilles,
Your fading face lights up,
And your gnarled hand
Reaches shakily for the treat,
You grasp your Holy Grail,
And like an excited child
Tear open the stack of sweets;
You give me the orange one,
The one you always disliked,
The bitter-sweet one
That seems to say it all.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 491 times
Written on 2006-08-23 at 09:47
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The Visit
You sit in solitary confinement,Face turned to the high window,
Looking inwards or outwards,
God only knows,
I walk to your chair,
You turn and peer at me,
Show a glimmer of recognition,
Like spotting a meteor,
Familiar yet alien,
And from my pocket
I take a tube of pastilles,
Your fading face lights up,
And your gnarled hand
Reaches shakily for the treat,
You grasp your Holy Grail,
And like an excited child
Tear open the stack of sweets;
You give me the orange one,
The one you always disliked,
The bitter-sweet one
That seems to say it all.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 491 times
Written on 2006-08-23 at 09:47
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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