The light is flickering, and then it is gone.
The world is plunged into shadow,
Like a wave,
Washing over an already finished canvas.

I tremble as an infantile stranger,
Passes me a weak cup of tea,
Made just the way I like it, they say.

Words are uttered in a foreign tongue,
Faces are distorted.
Thoughts are hazy,
and memory a blur.

I am a shadow of my former self.
Blind in the darkness. Unseeing.  
Searching alone,
Swallowed by the deafening buzz of foreign noise.

The light is flickering, and then it is on,
The world is bright and I am safe,
I smile as my granddaughter passes me my tea,
Made just the way I like it.

Love is what drives me towards the light,
When I lie in bed and think at night.
Although I drift away for a while,
I am always there.
Remember child.