take me again

by the hand

with you and the sea

and the expanse of

life ahead

I cannot be lost

©Erin Croley

the dream of Oregon

settles back in

I escape bed early

to sit with it

connect it to the grass grown wild

and become irrational

about complacency

©Erin Croley

distant planes and the blast

of a train horn

support the morning chatter

 of Cardinals, pigeons, pileated woodpeckers

and some high-pitched warble

I can't place

I stand in the middle

of what should be a walking path

with a steady current washing

over my feet

stare at yellowed strawberries

stunted cucumbers

and decide to drink coffee

©Erin Croley

curled together with heads bent

and legs tucked like pretzels

we share dreams to greet the day

I envision us

as an egg

he asks

how my belly opens

because he wants to return there

"for 100 years"

and I find it hard to accept either

as impossible

©Erin Croley

I don't know the stages of dementia

but today's blend of current reality

with high school,

where some of us are occasionally lost

and she is happy,

seems better than yesterday's tears

and anger at knowing

it was going to happen.

©Erin Croley

(from a #WordStew prompt)