Bunbury, 03/09/2014 - Treehouses

Teary eyes stare blankly

Searching for lost memories, a past forgotten and neglected

The achievements of old pale into insignificance

Maybe he’ll get better

Tearful goodbyes become routine, standardizing a list of facts to remember

One, my name is Thomas

Two, I have two daughters

Three, one is married

Four, my doctor’s name is Alfred, he is nice

The list begins to grow, bordering on inefficiency as it does

Why do we fight so hard to maintain a life that is no longer about living,

but instead simply about staying alive, almost for the sake of it

My mind aches with contemplation

On top of the struggling memories blurring a past I wish I could remember

But only so I could, once again, choose to forget it

I get flashes

Feelings more than memories

A smell, a touch

My wife

Was she?

She is dead

The more I fight the pain, the more it hurts

Any motivation to remember left the day I forgot what I was living for

Surely I had a plan

It all must have been leading to something

These days I see nothing but young faces full of a naive hope

Aspiration I crave and could never imagine

They’re looking at life from the other side

Yet to be torn limb from limb by endless challenges and lost causes

Glassy eyes watch the forgotten for another day

I don’t remember