She’s losing her mind as the clock ticks fast. 

And her home no longer belongs to her. 

It is just a home, with windows of glass, 

With the lost memories that only were. 


She doesn’t remember those memories, 

Of family past, of me as a child, 

And none of the positive energies 

That hadn’t ever failed to make her smile. 


Most of those moments are endangered, 

Those tender times, we were able to save. 

Forgetting our names, she views us strangers, 

Even the people to whom birth she gave. 


The odds are endless, what old age can bring. 

It forces me to ask who’d do such a thing.


This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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