Dementia

"Put a rose on my coffin",
You looked up and said,
"for this life holds no more for me, i am better off dead."

The lucid moments, few and far between,
The illness has worsened from what I have seen.

Rocking and mumbling you slip back to your haze,
Confusions, delusions, fill most of your days.

I gently guide you to bed and tuck you in tight,
Hoping you'll sleep more soundly tonight.

Drifting off I remember the years gone by,
Where you were there to look after me if I'd fall over and cry.

Now it's me looking after you, this illness makes me mad. Although I can still see you, you're not you anymore Grandad.