(By-Ruth Y. Nott)
Where once a bright bouquet of summer roses bloomed,
Where once a smile like morning sun radiantly lit the room,
Now only an empty vase stands, unaware of its useless plight
And only shadows slowly roam throughout day and night.
Where once the lilt of laughter played like chimes in the wind,
Where once her love and support meant all the world to him,
Now only silence greets him as he wanders alone and forlorn,
And memory seems to flicker without substance, shape, or form.
He reaches out for a hug, for a hand he needs to clasp,
And his tears continue to flow for a life he can't quite grasp,
For a family he wants to remember but whose names have slipped away,
And he wonders who these people are, who visit him each day.
Once in a while he remembers the pleasures of all his years,
This man of worth who once stood tall among his friends and peers,
But those times are fading fast, closed away like a book on the shelf,
For now only an empty vase stands here, a shell of his former self.
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