A collection of poems

My mother and him

He is staring death in the face

I watch him as he sleeps

He twitches

Flirts with deaths cold grip

Ever so often

Nodding

back into reality

Our reality, not his

No, his reality is hell

Waiting on deaths doorstep

He does not know my name

Nor my mother's

He can not remember a time

Before such pain

When he lived

We reintroduce our selves

Again and again

But he can not remember

He remembers his name

He does not remember his son

Nor his grandchildren

Or great-grandchildren

Then he does

He remembers

He carries conversation

And my mother cries