It won't make much sense at first but, then again, it isn't supposed to. You will get the message half way through. Unfortunately that is all too often the case!
A Forgotten Picnic
A naked man in a pin-striped suit on a park bench in the High Street.
An empty briefcase, overflowing, lies bulging at his bare feet.
Sandwiches, made long ago,wrapped in green and gold
Awaiting to unleash a swarm of spores from bread yeast mould
Lie on the seat, beside him in the glare of the mid-day sun
Wilting in their wrapping next to a discoloured Chelsea bun.
He bends, retrieves the briefcase; water splashes about.
Looking dismayed he shakes it, on his face a look of doubt.
He doesn’t feel the water as it splashes on his thigh,
He doesn’t see the knowing looks of each ignorant passer-by.
The briefcase falls, forgotten, to land upon the ground,
The man checks his pockets but nothing can be found.
Tears of frustration build and gather in angry red eyes,
Then drop to mix with water on the poor man’s sodden thighs.
Confused, he looks about him. For what, he doesn’t know,
He scratches his head for guidance until blood begins to flow.
Does anyone stop or try to help this man who is in distress?
No, its not their problem, just someone else’s mess!
The confusion is deliberate in the verses written above,
They are written with a purpose lest someone whom you love
Falls foul of the curse of dementia and all it does entail
To think it is just the memory that first begins to fail,
Is to be blinded by the facts and grief that does ensue
Dementia doesn’t discriminate, the next one could be you!
No comments:
Post a Comment