When at last she wakes, I'll make breakfast
and then
as we sit beside the window munching slowly crunchy toast with marmalade or cherry jam and drinking English morning tea,
she'll look at me and say,
'no eggs today,no eggs today,the chickens decided not to lay'
because she thinks she's on the farm where she grew up
but now grown old
her hold upon reality has slipped a gear or two
there's nothing anyone can do, it's just one of those things but I bring her breakfast everyday whether or not the chickens lay,
I love her everyway even if she wakes and thinks it's yesterday and what she thinks means everything to me.