she waited for her breakfast plate, quietly
without realizing—until she was told—
it had come; was right there in front of her
waiting for her, quietly—
to eat, to nourish, to keep her going
although she wasn’t sure
where she was going
today
she had dementia; don’t they
know?
A REFLECTION:
THIS POEM APPEARS IN MY BOOK Approach
Available to Buy on AMAZON
