Creative Works
A bit like Tai Chi
The sea moves rhythmically
Ebbing and flowing
Memory loss
“Sit down dear and drink your tea.”
Maybe today
she will remember me.
But she does not
hear me
when I call her name.
I am a stranger
who sits in her chair –
the one she once loved
but now loves to blame.
“Sit down dear and drink your tea,
Let me tell you
how things used to be,
when you blossomed
like a winter cherry tree.”
If any poem strikes a chord with you, tell me. Only I will see it.
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