Jonas is melancholy;
Summer fading fast the last warm weeks,
he gazes, already blind, off the prow of the Mary Jane.

He feeds life and memory to the sea;
Crumbs to circling gulls and terns, a detritus of days
and more again of yesterdays

Those years of shining suns and stars now spent;
to oceans flows, to work and love,
and what remains is just loose change, not worth a week of youth

Autumn brings the cold, slow death to earth and grey sky.
The sea still waits, turns day on day as chapters fade
and peel away into the wind and waiting waves.

Jonas still sits there. The Mary Jane set fair and dry.
Along the front the stores, closed like sleeping eyes,
wind, unforgiving and cold, sweeps litter into vacant doors.

And memory to forgotten roads and inlets blind.
he sits, a crooked masthead old and twisted in,
memories fall one by one until the days and crumbs are gone 


© Dave Kavanagh 2016

2 thoughts on “Dementia

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