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'Nothing'

comes so very simple nowadays.

For 'nothing' is all I seem to be left with,

from a brain that's fading, quickly from gray.



I stand at the crossroad,

of where a life use to dwell,

and all I barely see now,

is an weed-overgrown and empty lot.



Memories replay,

like an ancient picture show-

A silent movie of existance,

of a sub-titled span:



A child use to play there,

carefree, light-hearted,

worries not even a thought,

for playtime, then, was priority.



A young woman use to grow there,

from infant, to tot, to child,

to young lady, she became.

Blossomed and bloomed there, she did.



A wife, use to love there,

and love, given back, in turn.

The relationship out of two,

who there, became of one.



A mother use to nest there,

feeding bits of bookworm-knowledge

to her beloved offspring,

before, they off and flew away.



An old woman use to sit there,

flashing back, to times before,

hanging on to the memories that remain,

and trying to remember, her name.



'The End'

Flashes on the screen,

putting away the memoirs,

in the archvives of my mind.



Creature of habit, I'll return yet again.

When once more,

I long for the recollections,

that my gray matter takes away.



But for now, I pull the weeds,

allowing regrowth to hopefully spring forth,

and I pray silently, there on my knees,

to stop, this loosing of my mind.



©Cathy Faist 2007