Wednesday, April 26, 2017
It’s not like losing a wallet,
or even your best friend.
Losing your memory is
Each sentence Grandma speaks
makes me think of crossing a river.
She steps from word to word
she stops in the middle, disoriented.
Should she go back or keep going?
Mom takes Grandma by the hand
and helps her to the other side.
from A Writing Kid of Day: Poems For Young Poets
Posted by Ralph Fletcher at 9:18 AM