I was dreaming of dying,
in some distant future of mine.
The wheelchair gives me comfort,
that I may see you again.
If only I have someone to push me.
I remember the sun on my face,
Futuristic architecture at the intersection
of Broadway and Colfax.
I see tall buildings where
my past used to lay.
Memories of a simpler city,
now something I can't relate.
But I remember you and how alive
you made me feel,
despite the Alzheimer's in my brain.
I sat there for hours watching
the world pass me by.
I almost fell asleep.
There's something wrong with sleeping
your life away,
I almost gave up on you.
But just then I heard a voice behind me.
With so much effort that I'm already tired,
I managed to smile.
"Where would you like to go grandpa?"
The granddaughter said.
My old sleeping soul stirred to life again
I looked at her, wishing I knew her name.
With so much effort, I pointed my shaking finger
at the top of the tallest building to the south,
where the art museum use to be.
I said with a trembling voice
in our native tongue, not sure
She understands me,
"To the balcony of that monstrosity my dear,
That I may see one last time."
Only something so beautiful can come
from Mother nature,
as the fading light sets over
The mountains. For the first time
it was alright to leave the wheelchair behind
and float on home.
Let my bones return to the ground,
so that my soul
may see what is ahead.
I woke up with tears noone
but myself would know until now.
I saw Rose on the hill, my spirit horse,
waiting for me to ride once more.
Reading this stirred something within me it’s a moving
write of a silent voice that is slowly starting to fade, slowly
starting to loose the sense of reality…each verse was so
descriptive its like sitting and hearing the writer say all this
and that voice is so loud and clear and at the same time
weighed with a sadness…a touching write.
I'm sorry I edited the last four stanzas. The version you saw was not enough. At first I didn't want to reveal what I saw at the end because its too personal, but I guess writing has a funny way of revealing what I want.