WHAT MAY REMAIN
Who knows if I’ll be like him, by and by?
May I be spared that loss of memory,
The torpor and the tedium that he
Sums up each hour with a sigh—“Oh, my!”
Alzheimer’s and dementia make him cry
Sad silent tears of longing to be free
From his now cabined, cribbed mentality,
And yet his only exit is to die.
What lesson can I draw from such a case
Besides the obvious carpe diem theme,
Or the inexorability of fate?
Mortality is destined for our race;
To hope for otherwise is but a dream—
What may remain is what I might create.