When your shaky grip lets go,
I bow: and yet it is not so very low,
To pick up the things you’ve dropped and did not mean to throw.
When you slow your shuffling gait,
I breathe: and it is not arduous to wait,
To see the progress you’ve made, though again today, we will be late.
When in dreams, your flailing arms take flight,
I calm: and yet this faded bruise despite,
You would never hurt me, in sleep’s dark chasm, day or night.
When it’s unclear how to don your clothes,
I pause: and gently lead each sleeve, with phrase reposed,
Playacting that it is new, tho’ yesterday, you donned it quite composed.
When anxieties tear through your mind,
I sigh: and wonder, when slumber claims you, will I find
The strength to guide my hands, for all the tasks of two, entwined?
When bowels move sans warning and those near-by may see,
I cleanse: and next time – please do let us be
Safely at home, away from prying eyes, to preserve your dignity.
When we for long-sought words do wait in urgent care,
I advocate: and relay your meds and symptoms, in detail, to doctors there,
Tho’ six long LBD years, relayed in a moment, feels much like solitaire.
When dreams and plans vanish; we know only an unknown,
I weep: and hope for renewed esprit, where one glance, one laugh – one simple tone
Reminds me – we are still together – I am not yet alone.