For Prompt #145 at the Magpie Tales, and PawPaw, who left too soon.
~~~~~
His broken memory
no longer can relate
to her gentle touch-
Or the quiet reassurance
of her gnarled fingers
atop his wrinkled skin.
Or the long faded recollection
of the taste of smoked bush meat
chased down his thirsty throat
by frothy cups
of sweet palm wine.
He no longer can
remember the smell-
of moth balls – hanging
like a pall, around her clothes
a wispy cloud driven out
from before the eastward Sun
as it streaks across the sky.
But the dirty red chair
constant like the sun remains-
a signpost to a past
he can no longer reach
A place where once
Upon a Life there was a love
And a bond so strong
Though he barely remembers
He still can’t quite forget
A Geek's Life 
Such passion with age – fitting the picture wonderfully! The last two lines are simply stunning!
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Bittersweet and lovely …. beautiful work ~~
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Tender.
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well done..thanks for sharing
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Heartfelt description of the inevitable…
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*snaps fingers and nods head*
I like how wistful this is. Like a longing for something that once was, you think, but can’t be sure.
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Beautiful poem. I am humbled in the presence of the elderly.They are life’s final journey. One cannot help but think about the beginning and the years in between.
I’m such a fan of your writing.
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tears welled up. absolutely beautiful…
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Sad, sad.
Sad to lose beautiful memories.
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