The fog of Memory

In the stillness of the mind, a storm begins to brew,

A fog that creeps and crawls, obscuring what is true.

Memories slip away, like grains of sand through fingers,

Leaving behind a void, a emptiness that lingers.

The once-sharp mind now dulled, like a blunt knife's edge,

Struggles to recall the words, the faces, the pledges.

The world around them changes.

Yet they're trapped inside,

In a maze of confusion, where they can't abide.

They know who they are, deep down inside their hearts,

But the memories, they're fleeting

Like a dancer's arts.They try to hold on tight, with all their might and main,to the threads of sanity, before they feebly strain.

Oh, the anguish in their eyes, the tears that flow so free,

As they fight to keep their grip on what used to be.

They know they're slipping away, into a realm unknown,

Where the echoes of their past are all that's left to own.

And those who love them watch, with helpless tears in sight,

As their loved ones drift away.

Like a feather in the night.They long to reach out, to somehow make it right,But the chasm between them grows with each passing light.

Oh, the cruelty of this disease, the pain it brings about,

The way it robs them of their lives, their very essence now.

Yet in the midst of darkness, there is still a spark,

A glimmer of the person they once were, before the lark.

For in the eyes that hold such sorrow, there's a light that shines,

A reminder that they're more than just their minds.

Their spirits soar above the fog, the storm, the strife,

A testament to the lives they've lived, and the love they've given.

So let us hold them close, and wipe away their tears,

And promise that we'll be there, through all the coming years.

For even as dementia steals their minds away,

Their souls remain, and they are still our loved ones today.