Twelve Years

Heedlessly the seed
was placed; pain reached
and played the blues.

Could I count the bars, a monarchs' reign

The wound was timeless
the calloused heart, even as
the gale in the
tree blew and memory dimmed.

One more beat, one more
embrace would have not played
the melody.

For twelve long years, the change to my mother was slow, but Alzheimer's disease finally took her.  At the end, no matter how many red hats or long hugs there were, nothing could stop it.  Sometimes a Bad Hat Daze can be a blessing.