Echos of another time
come and go.
They rattle round
like a string of pearls
from yesteryear.
And those shocks
from a lifetime I must have
lived before,
called deja-vu.
Are footsteps on my grave.
Recollections of
childhood adventure,
satisfying achievements.
Reminiscences
of loving partners.
Reliving dreamscapes
where fantasy entertained
my sleeping mind
whilst semi-lucid
control advanced.
Memories, our very own
personal treasures.
things held dearly
lost so easily into
the dreaded alzheimers.
The days ahead
for so many of us?
Days of the lost past?
Surrounded by those loving
vaguely familiar strangers?