She doesn't remember me, her kid sister,
the one that used to babysit her children
when they were little and she needed my help;
but I remember her.
She was a teacher, and taught me how
to write cursive when I visited her class,
she bought me books and encouraged me
to work for a better life - she has forgotten,
but I remember her.
Now I visit her in the nursing home
and it breaks my heart to see how frail
she has become; she sleeps more than she's awake;
there is no communication, no sign that she remembers,
but I remember her.
Memory fades and she has become a shell
of the person she used to be;
this disease that robs the mind is the
beginning of her end...I cry for her;
somewhere in that neverland she exists in
I wonder if she hears and understands;
it doesn't matter - I remember her.
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