adventures in dysthymia

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

My Loss, a poem

My Loss

Death, I do not fear;
it will come to us all,
sooner or later.

To greet that day as me
is all I ask, to not
lose the man I am

before I am not.
I have watched that loss,
seen others melt away,

and it was my loss, too.

Stephen Brooke ©2017

yeah, another poem about Alzheimer's

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