114. Your Eyes

They say

The eyes 

Are children.


Remind me 

Of a cat—

Busy tracking things

No one else can see. 

Cary says she melts

When you look at her 

With your “big bug eyes”

Exaggerated by your

Sunken face.

Magnified this evening

By glasses two sizes

Too large.

You like to wear

Your husband’s spectacles

Whenever he sets them down.

He can not see 

Without them;

I wonder what you see

With them.

I ask you how they work;

And you tell me they’re 

Just fine. 

The Poetry of Dementia is an ongoing project to share my family’s journey with my mother’s illness as a year of moments. We do not know whether my mother will live a full year—or perhaps she’ll live longer. Her dementia has been a bittersweet and beautiful journey that has already taken us places we never imagined. Loving and caring for her at home has fundamentally changed each of us, and daily reminds us to live in the present with love, trust and patience. Click here to read from the beginning.