By Janet Bosson
Memory
What is a memory?
A snap shot in time,
a photograph stored,
like a vintage wine.
What is a memory?
It's where we pine,
it's heartache and laughter,
and solace of kind.
What is a memory?
It's the past all signed,
a lifetime in pictures,
our future to find.
What is a memory?
Loved ones we've lost.
or maybe! never met,
all there still embossed.
A sense we can see,
smell, hear and feel.
So that is a memory
But what is its point?
It's our life our self,
'our soul' and 'our mind'.
That because of dementia
some can not find.
by Janet Bosson (Netty)
Bouquet
A little brown at the edges,
where once all crisp and white.
The strong stems still lie straight,
the bow not quite so tight.
The leaves have begun to wilt,
but not given up the fight.
Flowers resigned to their fate
grasp on with all their might.
The years may have passed,
memories now dreams at night.
The bouquet though like his bride
to him still a handsome sight.
by Janet Bosson (Netty)
Paradise
The gate latch opens in they walk,
HUMANDS, tramping along every fork.
With cans or crisps rappers that fall.
Others, with dogs or maybe a ball.
All to have fun, to let of steam, shriek!
Or maybe it's solitude, an peace they seek.
Whatever it is they all gather for,
they tend to make the place an eyesore.
But when the dusk comes the gate latch locks.
It's time for the birds, the squirrels and fox.
The trees whistle and chat up the mice.
As the park returns to paradise.
by Janet Bosson (Netty)
Tropical Moments
Longing for cold in the night,
Like it was, in the spring of life.
The summer has gone, it's not right,
that autumn nights come with such strife.
When outside winter has started to bit,
and it's hot in the cold of the night.
by Janet Bosson (Netty)
