Years ago, my mother cared for an elderly lady who had Alzheimer’s. When I went over to her house, my mother introduced us. Annie grabbed my handed, shook it and told me her name and I told her mine. A short time later, she grabbed my hand again and again she told me her name. It didn’t take long to recognize that poor Annie couldn’t remember more than 10 to 15 seconds back in time. But she was so happy to meet me, over and over again. She inspired this poem.
Her alabaster hand reaches-
A fluttering leaf
Flitting, frail and faint
Seeking a soft place to land.
Hello, my name is Annie.
A blouse, crisp and flat
A sail against a heaving sea
Riding the movement
Holding back a warm ocean of folds.
Hello, my name is Annie.
Squinting, smiling eyes
Gushing geysers
Effusive, effervescent
Spewing enthusiasm and joy.
Hello, my name is Annie.
Feather gray tendrils adorn
And frame, a soft nest
From which hatches a new thought
A surprising and delightful thing to say:
Hello, my name is Annie.