My Poetic Path

My journey…shared in poems, prose and photos.


4 Comments

Revisiting…Fading Memories

It’s a cool, dreary Thanksgiving Day, here on Vancouver Island.

This poem and photo came to mind this afternoon, again and again.

Thinking of all those struggling with these heartbreaking issues. Sending hugs. ❤

Your efforts ARE appreciated.

I know….because my mom so poignantly told me that, when I needed to hear it most, many years ago. 

My Poetic Path

She sits in the diner, far from home.
Lunch rush over.
Blessed quiet restored.
It’s Tuesday, “her day”.
A crosstown bus ride, now a secret and special delight.
Away from the caring but claustrophobic family.
Still time to look back on happier days.
Trying to hold on to precious, fading memories.
 
The hours to savor, often still hopeful and good.
But too many others, a haze of uncertainty and doubt.
For now…
She will cautiously guard her fragile independence.
If only for a while longer.
Keeping them guessing.
Or so she hopes.
 
Where did the time go?
When did the children grow up to rise above her?
Knowing “what’s best”.
The mother becoming the child.
The child becoming the mother.
Trying to do their best..
Of that one thing, she is sure.
 
She grasps fervently and desperately to the time left.
To revel in these sacred moments alone.
Savoring her own thoughts.
Not willing to give…

View original post 201 more words


24 Comments

Fading Memories

fading memories
She sits in the diner, far from home.
Lunch rush over.
Blessed quiet restored.
It’s Tuesday, “her day”.
A crosstown bus ride, now a secret and special delight.
Away from the caring but claustrophobic family.
Still time to look back on happier days.
Trying to hold on to precious, fading memories.
 
The hours to savor, often still hopeful and good.
But too many others, a haze of uncertainty and doubt.
For now…
she will cautiously guard her fragile independence.
If only for a while longer.
Keeping them guessing.
Or so she hopes.
 
Where did the time go?
When did the children grow up to rise above her?
Knowing “what’s best”.
The mother becoming the child.
The child becoming the mother.
Trying to do their best.
Of that one thing, she is sure.
 
She grasps fervently and desperately to the time left.
To revel in these sacred moments alone.
Savoring her own thoughts.
Not willing to give up without a fight.
Or without a backward glance.
 
Her time alone brings other thoughts too.
The hard ones to contemplate.
Regrets for roads not taken.
Dreams not reached for.
Perhaps another knight in shining armour?
Now he will never find her.
Or can he, will he?
As she sits and waits.
 
She ponders the passing parade.
The hustle and bustle of a generation she will not embrace.
Again her mind wanders to the past.
All cannot be lost.
If she can hold on to that which she alone possesses.
For now, the diner is her refuge from that onslaught.
Time’s cruel and often insidious ways.
It marches on and waits for no one.
 
The owner looks over and smiles.
Another cup of tea, before she is on her way?
“Yes, thanks.”
After all, it’s just another Tuesday.
And tonight…
the bus will return, just a little late.
 
     
               
“Fading Memories” © 2008 Geraldine H. Hartman
***

Dedicated to all the people who are caring for elderly loved ones; tragically watching their memories fading away.

Sometimes we must face, a long, heart-breaking goodbye.

***

This is a poem that seems to have struck a chord with many people.

You can read the original post with comments here.

From the poetry collection: My Poetic Path.

***

Also, sharing one of my all-time fav Elvis songs for this week’s prompt:

Memories.

This video includes some great photos from Elvis’ life.

Submitted for the June 9th Woven Dreams prompt: Memories

Photo courtesy of: Flickr