Poetry

Grief is …

stopping by the watermelons,

unable to pick one up.

You taught me

to listen for the hollow sound,

to know when it’s ripe.

If you were here

you would be annoyed 

that the toothpaste cap is covered in gunk

I know it drove you crazy

but I always thought it was funny

Now it’s oozing everywhere

**(This poem is dedicated to all affected by ALS and FTD)

Whispers collide, remnants of me

I catch glimpses, memories

Echoes of my life, an angry haze

Broken body, fractured mind

Forgotten, all I am and was

I wrote this...

Moms, Stubborn and Defiant Child!

B.R.T. 5*11*2026

I have my moments of dread, don't you doubt it.

ALS likes to poke me over and over again, saying;

I'm going to take your life, every piece, bit by bit.