H. W. Bryce
This story must be told
Of a lady who lived so bold,
Until the day she was laid so low
By a sneaky, nasty blow.
She fought so hard, she was so game,
But the alien attack she could not tame.
She was brave right to the end,
To the alien attack she refused to bend,
For the alien sold her a pack of lies
And the alien had her chasing butterflies.
So the lady got mad, he’d raised her ire,
She shouted and screamed, she was on fire
To banish that alien, even struck out,
Got face to face, spat her venom like gout.
Next minute, don’t you know,
She was calm, on an even flow.
Something caught her fancy then,
And she giggled till I don’t know when.
Come imminent setting of the sun
Our lady was up and on the run,
She had places to go, people to see.
For some strange reason, she didn’t need me.
End of day, she had a little moment of silly play,
Like she knew that in life you have to make hay,
Then she fought and she kicked, she even played dead
For the whole time I tried to get her into her bed.
Life went on in such a way, day after tiring day,
She fought for her Self, trying to make Her stay.
Then one night, she kissed my lips and said good night,
Went to sleep, and then, finally, she was all right.
—
This is a reposting because this is January, and January is Alzheimer’s Awareness Month.
You can help fight this dread epidemic of a disease. For every book you buy, I will contribute 20% of the price to the Alzheimer’s Society.
You can order your copy of Chasing a Butterfly: A journey in poems of love and loss to acceptance, via
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Chasing-Butterfly-H-W-Bryce/dp/1460299345
Friesen Press: https://books.friesenpress.com/store/title/119734000015361954/H.-W.-Bryce-Chasing-a-Butterfly
Thank you.
