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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2078441
Alzheimer’s patients reach for dreams they will never hold
Alzheimer’s patients reach for dreams they will never hold


The Wings of the Wind



My memories
are made of air
and fly on the
wings of the wind

The scent of the blossoms
on the breath of breeze
transport me
back through time

I am immersed by feelings
with no vocabulary and
events explained in
dimensions of light.

I see half-scapes of my life
bits and shavings
of my childhood

They shimmer unfocused
and dare me to find them
but dissolve like dandelions
in the spring

My memories
are made of air
and slide like silk
across my skin

Ephemeral and rare
they drift away
and fly on the
wings of the wind

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