Nightfall weighs on me.
I can feel the passing years,
hear the bed creak from their mass
whispering soporific promises.
Memories dance in and out of reach
beautiful in form, lacking content.
I remember the death of a child
as if whitewashed of emotion
and feel no grief.
The love I hold for a grandbaby’s smile
kisses me a sleepless goodnight
while I search in vain for her name.
I fear the morning when I’ll awaken
with no past on which to linger.
A life of experiences scatter
like dandelions on a summer’s day.
It’s daytime, for I feel the heat, but
the days of my mind darken in eclipse
all sound without fury…
all whispers and mocking.
I hate the whispers in the darkness.
They keep my dreams awake.