They go in great gusts
Words lost
Like autumn leaves
to the first winds of winter

So many
Impossible to count
I had to be given the word
Count which I could not remember

I had to be given the words
Frontotemporal Lobar Degeneration

I will lose myself
In little pieces
Some quick, some slow
This they tell me

When I

Lose the word smile
Still will I smile?

Lose the word laugh
Still will I laugh?

Lose the word love
Still will I love?

Lose the word weep
Still will I weep?

Lose the word grieve
Still will I grieve?

Lose the word beauty
Still  will I see beauty?

Lose the word death
Still will I know my fate?