The Beauty Other's See is My Sadness

Days on end in the early evening,
I see her sit on the deck
And look at the beauty.

The trees dance in the wind for her.
They dress in the finest of colors,
Rich russet oranges, fall like yellows and emerald green.

With each change of season,
They give to the beauty
Just for her to see.

Many hours she would stare,
At the beauty around her,
Etching it in her memory.

I join her at times.
I talk and point out
The beauty around her.

She would smile
And speak a word.
So different from when I was a child.

Her once golden hair now
Shines in shades of gray.
Her once bright eyes of blue,
Show as a child lost and not understanding.

Her skin with wrinkles
Does not tell her mind
She is cold, and it turns blue with shivers.

I put a sweater around her,
And add a lap rug,
She looks at me, almost knowing.

She turns back to the driveway,
Covered with leaves,
Not treaded upon by anyone.

She sits in waiting,
For something or someone.
I sit waiting, hoping she might remember.

My heart silently cries.
For the beauty others see,
Is my sadness.

Alzheimer is her constant companion,
The only one allowed
Into her heart and mind.

I know she is in there,
I cannot reach her,
In another way, I know I have.

I am here
To share with her
The one thing she loved before.

The trees dance in the wind for her.
They dress in the finest of colors,
Rich russet oranges, fall like yellows and emerald green.

The one thing
She loves now.
We sit in waiting

.My heart silently cries.
For the beauty others see,
Is my sadness.

I gently pat her hand,
“I love you mother.”
She still sits in waiting….

Note: This is not anyone in my family, but what I have observed working in the medical field, other's and their mom.