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On Turner Mountain

This poem is dedicated to my mother who had Alzheimer's...

In years that have now slipped into the breach
of speeding light and time that simply mars
the memories recalled so clearly then
on Turner Mountain where we watched the stars.

"Look, there!" I yelled, excitement in my voice,
a shooting star blazed just before the dawn;
resplendent in its beauty and its light,
burned brightly but in seconds it was gone.

Now still, in disbelief, I find you here,  
a fading star that burned with so much flair.
Among so many others, now I find
I mourn each time I help you to your chair.  

I am a stranger now you can't recall.
There is no past, no memories that bind.
Is there a clue to tell you who I am?
Your eyes reveal no hope within your mind.

The memories we made throughout the years
are mine; the thief has taken them from you.
 But know they will be in my heart and safe,          
at least until they're stolen from me, too.

It's time to eat, so let's go find your chair,
we'll talk of times we spent beneath the sky,
on top of Turner Mountain long ago,
we watched the shooting stars go sailing by.

Copyright February 16, 2002

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