patience, I have dementia

 

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

approachCover

Published by Dayna E. Mazzuca

I write books and host retreats to bless the JOURNEY

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