Hills to Hawkesbury Living Magazine - - Memories -

Walk slow with me, I have grown old’

What once was just a sin­gle step; Is some­how, now three-fold;

Talk slow with me, my mem­o­rys’ dim; My train of thought runs off the rails,

Some­times changes on a whim. Don’t laugh at me, un­less I too

Would un­der­stand what I said, or did That so amuses you.

I am not deaf, no need to shout; And…my in­tel­lect is still in­tact,

I can re­ally dif­fer­en­ti­ate What is fan­tasy, or fact.

Just let me be the one to know To where, and when it’s time to go,

And spend time left with those like me Drift­ing to Eter­nity.

And then, don’t look too hard And hope to see

Some sem­blance of that other me For she’ll be gone, and took with her

The vi­sion you may much pre­fer. Mary L Smith © 2016

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