You're Not There At All

Reflections of the past haunt me in quiet moments,
Aware of lingering memories of what life has so far shown us.
Our younger selves enjoying dance hall days,
Never envisaging the family we would raise.
The joy of our first house, we turned into a home,
Hand me down furniture, cheap paint, and curtains I had sewn.
Two robust boys with your aqua blue eyes,
Sunday’s enjoyed with baked dinners and laughter, warm apple pies.
Football in the backyard, with quarters that never seem to end,
Basketball, baseball, our boys roughhousing with their friends.
Now the laughter has subsided, busy rooms are now hushed,
Our sons have families of their own, our lives no longer rushed.
Friends we made along the way, would be with us for life we were sure,
Now those friends are distant and don’t knock upon our door.
Flowers no longer blossom, leaves no longer fall,
For the branches are all empty and you’re not here at all.
At night I say a silent prayer, that you’ll come back to me,
You are tormented by Alzheimer’s, so I know that cannot be.