The Thief of Memories
There are rooms in your house where memories live,
though you struggle to recognise them now,
there is a corner where your chair sits,
as old and as still as you,
where your arms once opened to greet me,
smiling ear to ear at the sound of my name.
But now your hands tremble,
and none of the syllables ring a bell anymore,
and the red port you used to pour
rests on your table, forgotten -
as your once full life slips away,
soaring by, with the sands of time.