Vera.

My name is Vera, I’m 93. Let me tell you about me, I have this thing it’s in my brain, Of all my memories only some remain. The thing I have is called Dementia, Some days I feel I can’t remember, The names and faces I once knew Or the simple things I used to do. The present slips beyond my view, But past days stay both clear and true. New moments fade to fast to keep while older ones run strong and deep. I see your face I know it’s you But names are hard to hold onto. They disappear before I speak Like something lost I cannot keep. The days slip past, a drifting stream Some fade like shadows, some like dream. Faces and moments may flee from me Yet love and laughter still hold the key. I may forget the hours, the door, the street But hearts I’ve touched I’ll always meet. Through all that’s lost and all that’s free My name’s Vera and I’m 93.