Sunday, January 1, 2012

When The Past Is No More

By Wendy Shepard-Kalan

The cold wraps around her small frame
A shiver a sneeze
She can't remember his name
He extends his hand out with a soft please
I have to go home she cries
She walks to the door
He just sighs
won't you give me a moment more
She's sorry he's so alone
But she thinks I have to go home
He brings her tea and they sit
Over her lap a blanket
His eyes are so green
She just may know
Something she's seen
She needs to go.
Photographs of people who are they
She saw she was there
On a different day
She seemed to care
As the night grew long
She fell asleep
In her head a song
Hers to keep
Will the morning bring a memory
Will she remember me...
When the past is no more
Then steps to the front door
Where would she go
She doesn't know...

©2011 Wendy Shepard-Kalan

Click on Wendy Shepard-Kalan e for bio and list of other works published by
Pencil Stubs Online.


  1. Wendy, this is so poignant. My sister-in-law is just like this, except these days she doesn't speak much any more. The cruelest of diseases, I believe.
    John I. Blair

  2. My maternal grandmother Carrie Joslin, a fine poet in her younger days, my mother Lena May Carroll, and my aunt Linnie Jane Burks, also poets, suffered from Alzheimer's which is said to run on the maternal side. I try to keep active, keep my health, and pray daily it doesn't strike me.

  3. Thank you. I wrote this in memory of my grandma Ida Cohn. She suffered from this devastating disease. Alzheimer's is the worst of thieves.