The crestfallen sound of mom saying “Don’t Go!” will reverb in my brain until tomorrow’s return as an echo my refilled joy will drain. Mom’s old stories hooked me like a caught bluegill When I was a wee lad Why didn’t I write them down, they were so real Daily I wish so I had Of exploits in school and living…
Tag: poem
Looking Back: The First Day in Memory Care
The crestfallen sound of mom saying “Don’t Go!” will reverb in my brain until tomorrow’s return as an echo my refilled joy will drain. Mom’s old stories hooked me like a caught bluegill When I was a wee lad Why didn’t I write them down, they were so real Daily I wish so…