The Golden Tree called Dementia

 My late post.

Salute.

Failing memory and old age. 

I once talked to a man who said he could remember what he did twenty-five years ago, but not what he did two minutes ago. 

Such a tragic thing but they still shine so bright. 

This is for you, William. 

Salute. 

The Old Man.

I once walked tripping through LSD Strawberry Fields forever 

As the Beetles sang

In good old 1967

Danced in the hot Summer of Love

Watching some my old musical heroes 

Some now in heaven

Janis Joplin

The Who

Joe Cocker and the legendary Phoenix

Jimi Hendrix played

Woodstock in Sixty-nine 

When free love didn't cost a penny or dime

I was young ready and I stayed alive 

Listening to the 

Bee Gees in the Seventies

I relaxed with Frankie and his Two Tribes in The Eighties 

While Princess Diana got married with all the pomp and regal festivities

Flew a kite on holiday with my first love 

With our holy Madonna 

Listening like a virgin on my new Walkman

As her wild music awakened rather strange urges

All those memories 

I still love 

But now they slowly fall like wind-swept golden leaves 

From my memory tree

And all I can do 

Is watch as they are slowly burnt as they are set free

It's a tragic thing being that solitary thing 

That not only I can see

As this dreadful disease consumes every single beautiful memory of me

But my Memory tree still has so many golden leaves 

That I still live 

And in a wilful celebration of inner strength

To  you dearest reader 

This is one of my last poems

 I chose to give

Remember me and be happy 

For one day

You might forget all the beautiful things

You once did

When you truly lived  

William Wildchurch

The Third

From Somewhere in Toronto

Canada

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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