YOU ARE MY MUSE TODAY

for my husband who labors to hold me close in memory in the wilderness of Alzheimer's

where is the broom to sweep up

all the shards, to re-deal life's cards

when a loved one has gone away

and left a heart to break on its own

the sudden crippling chill of all alone

from all the years once spent together

and now the bed is bigger, colder

no matter the number of blankets,

they cannot fill that space beside

where he used to lay, and keep

me warm, where is heaven's mercy

then, that makes an angel of one

so dear and hallowed in my life who

will walk with me, but without memory . . . the rooms still hold his essence

like it's waiting for him to return ... his scent like musks finest hour

filling the air, his laughter a tenant

in my heart that filled my ears

i cry but he does not spill with my tears

flowing down the smile lines he

drew on my face with his soft kisses

as i gaze into the mirror alone,

the place he once left so many notes on

shades of his rosy hue covered his lips,

the "i love you"s with little hearts

i drew to dot the i... i was his girl . . . i was the vessel he filled with his love

made life's journey so much easier,

how he filled my sails . ..

now every wind

carries hints of his voice, my one-sided

conversations of all the plans we'd made

on those walks we used to take . . . we pointed at the snow on the mountain,

how it seemed so big through our years , we laughed, imagining how cold it would be

up there, though his smile could melt

the polar caps, and i would even tell him so . i see, the snows returning, time's great

hands weighing the horizon, but that snow

won't melt now, i shelter the flame

of him in my heart, though my steps

are slowed and heavier, how he still

keeps me warm.that mountain doesn't

look so big anymore, that place you laid

down for your final sleep without me

by your side to keep you warm now . . . it's all a mess now, time without him

hard to keep the place clean now

it doesn't feel so much like a home

without him by my side, sharing my life

clear minded

maybe time is the bristled straw

against my final hours turning to dust

when my heart stops beating, too weak

to go on anymore, and then

to collect me and carry me to him. . . and my legs will be young again

and my arms will be strong again

and my heart will become whole again

and he will redraw those smile lines

with those soft kisses and touches

upon my smooth face and that future

day i will once more sweep him

off his spiritual feet ... he is still my

smile as i think of that coming day

no longer having to spend without him

in that day of final reckoning . .

that day of final beckoning