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Once Sadie O’Leary’s dementia
Brought her to ‘Whispering Pines’
A nursing home at the edge of the woods
Where she played in earlier times

Her loving son bought her Nikes
For Sadie was sturdy and strong
Her sneakers got quite a work-out
Whenever the door alarms bonged

That happened almost daily
Sadie escaped out that back door
Into the woods she scampered
As I raced to fetch her once more

A good headstart down the timeworn path
Now overgrown and winding
While I just turned 30- so winded
Sadie’s ahead at 90

Sadie O’Leary kept going
So wiry and wiley was she
I heard the alarm bells ringing
Far away from Sadie and me

Sadie, wait!  Where are you going?
She was determined like no other
Her nostrils flared when she declared,
“I’m going to have lunch with my mother!”

Finally able to reach her
Grasping onto both of her hands
Remember she died years ago?
Your mother’s house no longer stands!

"Don’t you think I know that?!”
Glaring into my eyes brightly
Turning round to go back
Sadie gripped my hand so tightly

A comfortable symbiosis
Her foundation by the stream
Tomorrow we'll go together
Who am I to spoil her dream?
True story, fictitious name, but close...She taught me that no one is demented all the time-even the most psychotic person has lucid moments sometimes.
I'll be your disc jockey baby
I'll spin what you
want me to spin
yeah I'll spin
the tune
you want
me to

spinning only your light and shade
spinning it in stereophonic grade
spin being a speciality just for you
spin on the turn-table's auto-cue*

'I'll be your disc jockey baby
I'll spin what you
want me to spin
yeah I'll spin
the tune
you want
me to

spinning only your echo's wave
spinning it to the beat of a rave
spin everything with the mix right
spin it both by day and night

I'll be your disc jockey baby
I'll spin what you
want me to spin
yeah I'll spin
the tune
you want
*me to
due to me reaching
that post menopausal age
there's a hirsute carpet
growing on my chin's stage

a goatee  beard adorns
in such distinguishing tone
it's envy of my neighbour
Russell John Stone

over the years he's tried
to cultivate an abundant hair tress
but alas his bare cranium
has borne less and less

since my whiskers
are so prolific in sprouting
I could shave them off
for his wig's touting
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