Sometimes my resolve starts to buckle
My slowly developed confidence slips and crumbles
Doubt starts creeping in
How can I refuse to see an aging mother whose
Mentation is failing, whose body is wasting
With time moving on, memories are softening
She, who is a mere shell of the person she once was
I need no longer fear
Perhaps, by the time I reach her current age, I will
have forgotten her
At that time, I will have forgiven her as well
