Vanishing

I feel them slipping away,
fragments of memory slowly
detaching from the frontal lobe,
floating like dandelion pappi,
fluffy parachutes drifting off
with the wind. I chase after them,
but look foolish, a frenzied flailing of fists
trying to recover pieces of me.

I don’t want to forget. Like sand
in an hourglass, each lost episode
carries with it the weight of time,
and the days lately are tipping the scale
toward oblivion. So, I fill the hours
with crosswords, sudokus, and other
puzzles to exercise the mind
and delay the inevitable.

Though the fondness of yesterday
continues its slippery decline,
and the sound of my father’s voice
fades like the mist, I choose to live
for today, and take in every lived
moment with the depth of breath
that fills the lungs with the memories
of dreamers and lovers.