You call me senile.
Words spit out of your mouth,
So ignorant and young.
You haven’t learned that to forget
Is the trick that never goes out of style.

I choose to remember
The things that count.
Lovely moments and mountain vistas.
Memories of my wife
Live on in my mind forever.

There’s so little left for me today.
Tiny pleasures to be discovered,
But it hardly compares, truth be told,
To those days passed by
With my lady whose eyes always lit the way.

© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

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