Losing the walkway as it disappears behind you
Memory fades of all that is past
What you believe you may never know again
Thoughts drift in and out and then they are gone
What you had for breakfast suddenly seems important
But if you try to remember it, it slips away
The fog reaches up to your crown and explodes
Very little is sacred now, not your mind for sure
You remember taking walks, but the stepping stones
Have lost their shine--they are covered in algae
And the next step is never for sure
Faces seem to pop in and out, sometimes familiar
And other times they seem to be new to you
The gifts that used to bring you so much joy
No longer bring the pleasure, the excitement
At last, the greatest joy is a rocking chair
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