It is strange, sad, but true,
I now have a disordered mind,
Reasoned coherent thought,
All replaced and left behind.

Things I have to do: or not;
Run away as if to escape,
The day’s events rerunning,
On a deceptive loop of tape.

Mismatched memories amass,
Flickering coloured thought,
Unfocused faded imagery,
So stressed and overwrought.

‘Because of age’, so I’m told,
Golden years such a silly sham,
Knowing then what I do now,
I might even know who I am!

Alas I don’t: not anymore
Neither do I really care,
When not myself I’m someone else
Together, we do make a pair.

I am content, nothing matters,
As I reach life’s setting sun,
Basking in the happy memories
Of things, I’ve never done.