She sits, unmoving on a cane backed chair
Vacant eyed, deaf to the blackbirds song
The dress that once hung in a Paris fashion house
Hand stitched seams collapsed on shrunken flesh

Age spots polka dot the yellowing skin
Eyelids flutter
The mind reels turn
Playing stuttering shards of memory
~
A Devon tea shop
Middle class chatter
Tinkling cups sing to a baroque tune
As she lingers over the cake menu
~
An impatient serenade of car horns
Invade the open window
Surrender to a spaniel eyed lover
Early union on a Neapolitan morning
~
The B17 low, too low
Shattered wings trailing aluminium banners
Inch high over the slate tiled roofs
As somewhere a radio plays Glen Millar
~
The clutching hand of disease
Finds the cogs of the mind
The screen flickers, fades
No credits are running
*
*
*

A poem on Alzheimer’s disease.