The hands of time have turned into thieves
That plunder your thoughts
You rummage with hope only to find remnants of retrograde amnesia
Existing after the pillage
Your memory is nothing else but dust
And your brain is an old-fangled furniture
Where a colony of dust mites resides
They have infested at the seams of your cortex
They have eaten your thoughts
But if you forget about me
I’ll forgive you
Little by little I’ll be the moon and the sun for you
I’ll divide our brain into two hemispheres
One will house our great memories we share
The other will keep the good times we never had
Because Alzheimer had already taken you away from us.
I’m a fifth-year medical student that has a knack of writing poetry every now and then. I don’t consider myself a poet rather I’m a writer that writes poetry occasionally.