experiencing some form of dementia.
Floating on a cloud of indifference,
awareness chipped at like a pillar of marble.
Puerto de agua! Puerto de agua! said he.
it was the fountain at his feet of which he spoke,
water flowed in giggling sheets.
"Door of water", exact translation.
Every word he spoke was poetry,
The words fell from his mouth like boulders gathering speed.
"Dios mio! conesta hente"
I know, these guys are too much.
He spoke with paternal warmth.
He tells the song of the sparrow,
speaks to the invisibles.
A grandfather, a husband, a son, a friend,
a pleasant man, a lyrical master.
Mind slowly dissolving,
final years no recognition,
of family, of friends, of life itself.
Thank you my friend,
I will remember.
