The threads of memories
In myriad vibrant hues and shades
Create beautiful tapestries.
Or so, you’d think.
Sometimes, these tapestries
Turn into something different.
Threads wind around one another
Forming tight and gnarly knots,
Color over color replacing each color.
The mind struggles to make sense
Of the changing memoryscapes.
Faces once familiar now seem strange.
The constant tugging and pulling
Leads to the strings snapping.
This is a war in which everyone’s losing.
The tapestry tattered,
Some threads lie scattered.
Precious images are forever shattered.
Like a withering autumn leaf,
Battered by the elements, on the tree,
One by one, the memories leave.
Nothing overcomes the inertia.
A blank space forms like an empty shell
In the armageddon of dementia.
wordsofhope 