The Fog

The Fog

A Walk with Dementia

Hidden in the swirling mist

and hazy curtains of fog,

I cannot find her.

I call out to her, hoping for a glimpse of her.

“Where are you?”

“Can you hear me?”

Suddenly the fog clears.

Her eyes focus on me

and she smiles.

A fleeting memory floats by,

but the fog sweeps in again.

She’s lost in the rubble of her ruined brain.

The best of her is gone…

hidden in the swirling mist

and hazy curtains of fog.

I hate this disease.