Feature Poet
A Whistling Kite
Soaring - swooping - tumbling flight
Airborne grace - a joyous sight.
Earthbound me, wishing that I might,
Just for a moment - be a kite.
© Peter Stratford
Dementia
Decades spent together
As life’s great tune we played
The richness of love’s memories
Into our mind’s book laid.
But, slowly, as one ages,
It seems some evil grip
Reached in amongst the pages,
And from it volumes ripped.
Then a thought comes clearly,
"I need to walk the dog."
"Our dog’s been gone for years now."
This voice sounds through a fog.
The face looks vague, familiar.
Her head just slowly nods.
Beyond my comprehension
Is why she sits and sobs.
© Peter Stratford
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