Dementia Sets In
The house has its blinds pulled shut.
It will let no secrets out today.
No songs of joy or sorrow float from its windows,
no lamp light brightens the lace at the sill.
It just sits there
As if it is confused;
are there enough flowers in the bed,
or too many?
There are no children playing
at the window or in the yard.
The house is usually bustling
with activity and noise.
Today we notice how still it stands
There is no opening of its doors
no water running from the hose.
What are the inhabitants doing?
Are they shut in because of sickness?
Are they away on vacation?
Is there a hostage situation unfolding?
The curtains haven’t fluttered in hours.
Where there was life and laughter yesterday
today there is only an awkward silence.
This poem is very personal to me. I have submitted it to a couple of different reviews/journals and have had it rejected and my heart can’t take this one being rejected again so I am going to put it up here and hope someone understands what I was trying to do with this poem.