A journaling of life with Grandma, as she jouneys to the land she knows not...called Alzheimers

Monday, October 3, 2011

my words

Can you catch the word in front of me...can you not see it there?
The letters hang on my hair, my tongue...like a cloud they float around and taunt me like a child.

They surround me like a shroud...sometimes too tight...sometimes too loose, like a cut strand of pearls...falling one by one.....

The words fight me like an enemy and hang on me like a child drowning....simultaneously.

Can you help me?
Can you raise my words from the dead,
can you bring life to them with your pen?

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