For a Friend

[Ron]

For a Friend.

A mind is tripping, slipping, slipping, back to the days of yore
To images clear of yesteryear, though yesterdays are unsure!
No help from tipping, gripping tipping, can senses be restored
From the shrouds, of empty clouds, where a once great memory stored.

The constant frustration of causation that eludes the research eye
Thus eats away, each passing day, of loved ones who sadly decry
The manifestation, with no cessation to one whom they have adored
Resulting pain without rein, of a weight, that cannot be ignored.

There is no enlightening, just a tightening, fixed and vacant stare
As yesteryear joins yesterday in vagueness and despair
And with the quietening, very frightening, realisation accord
The cruellest stroke, a leaden yoke, of recognition untoward.

Any believing, of retrieving, is not a dream fulfilled
But to always hope, to help cope, that scientific enquiry skilled
Will halt the grieving, by achieving, of cerebrum unexplored
A breakthrough find, to cure the mind, from this illness so abhorred!

© Ron Boughton

[william williams]

I like it as I meet people like this nearly every day.


bill the old battler

[warooa]

Well said Ron, great to see you posting again.

Cheers, Marty

[mummsie]

Yes, and it can inflict each and everyone of us.
Well done Ron-
Sue

[Heather]

It's a sad story that's going to become more common as our population ages.

Good to see you writing and posting Ron.

Heather

[Ron]

Thanks Bill, Marty, Sue and Heather for taking the time to read and for your comments.
Yes I have been out of the loop for a while, got out of the way of things I guess.
Then Matt jogged my conscience a month or two ago, so back to have another go.
Thanks again
Ron

[Terry]

G/day Ron,
As Matt said, good to catch up with you again - enjoyed your poem as well.

Terry

[Ron]

Matt & Terry
Thank you both for the comments, much appreciated.
Cheers
Ron