She does not remember her children,
she has also forgotten her name.
Daily, her loved ones visit now,
though she’ll never be quite the same.
Questions stare out of her eyes,
that she can’t connect to her lips.
She can no longer style her own hair,
so it’s often held back with clips.
She screams when they wash her hair,
she cries for to leave it alone.
She would rather stay in her nightdress,
and just wants to be on her own.
Stains appear on her clothes,
that would never have been there before.
She’s forgotten she doesn’t eat meat,
cause the arguments out of the door.
She’s deprived of the mind she once had,
it’s all muddled and in tiny bits.
She’s forgotten what she was saying,
as soon as the words leave her lips.
So I bless I still have my mind and
I love her as much as I can.
I can’t talk about deprivation,
while I still visit Aunty Anne
In response to the Daily Prompt – Deprive