Your memories have faded over a stretch of time,
Your language is limited in your frame of mind.
Your family are now strangers sat at the bottom of your bed,
All those thoughts and feelings are muddled in your head.
Your hands feel that of a foreigner in a world so confound,
Those very hands have held your daughter as she makes her first sound.
You struggle with memories of past events
and moments you thought you could never forget.
I feel frustrated and deprived of a memory before,
Before this disease came knocking on your door.
The guilt I feel at my frustration,
Knowing it’s the disease and not your creation.
I can remember coming to see you in your new home,
But it wasn’t your household, it wasn’t your own.
Your possessions in your room have lost their meaning,
You sit in your chair as though you are dreaming.
Perhaps dreaming of memories how time used to be,
When you used to read me stories when perched on your knee.
Your memories may have faded and some thoughts may have drifted,
But I know their hiding somewhere and I hope the fear can be lifted.
But that moment of realisation when you know who I am
Those soft hands clinging to mine, as I say “It’s me, Nan”.