Today Is Not Her Birthday

For those of you who have had a family member affected by Alzheimer's,  you know that of which I am about to speak.



Today is not her birthday
She defiantly insists
Today is not her birthday
Yet she can't say when it is

The room is dark, curtains tightly drawn
How long has it been
Since the time she knew what day it was
Or the month she's living in?

She sees familiar faces
Is put as ease by a warm smile
But keeps repeating questions
Although you’ve only just arrived


The bathtub, it sits empty
Collecting dust now its main task
To merely suggest  bathing
Makes you wish you hadn’t asked

The pieces of her puzzle
Do not fit and aren't much fun
Confusion now controls the day
Am I a brother or a son?

Medications neatly sorted
Beneath a month of plastic tops
Passing by them all throughout the day
She never takes them, never stops

“The world is out to get me”
“Why don’t you leave me here to die”?
Paranoia says these things . . .
Paranoia’s been known to lie

The room is still, the air is thick
How long has it been
Since the time it mattered what day it was
Or the month that she was in?

Today will be her birthday
She won't recall her gifts
Today is my Mom's birthday
And that's just the way she is.