Alzheimer's

Thoughts bloom in a meadow. I pick one from the ground. It wilts between my forefingers.
I bend down to pick another. A tsunami of decay approaches from the distance.
The closer it comes, the more flowers fall to the ground and die.

A most familiar face becomes a silhouette.
People fade I said I'd never forget.
Beloved places are consumed by the void.
Identity crushed and then destroyed.

Should I feel upset, regretful, or annoyed?
Was the life I had one that I enjoyed?
Looking through my own life from afar,
photos and journals only agitate a scar.

I could keep myself locked up in sorrow,
or I could make myself move on;
I could meet new people tomorrow,
or weep over how they'll be gone.

Here I must record my thoughts so that they stick around,
better that than toss them overboard to drown.
Don't let your thoughts wilt and turn brown.
Water them well by writing them down.