Trying to remember

Your face I should know.
Yet, a stranger you are.
Sunday comes, you visit.
Trying to remember, I cannot.

Your face before me,
Your voice a melody.
Smiling and talking.
Yet, I don’t response.

You sit with me.
Spending your Sundays.
A week’s happening.
I yearn for more.

It is time to go.
I hear you say.
A hug and a kiss.
I see you walk away.

At the doorway,
you turn and wave.
I see your sadness.
Yet, I don’t response.

A body frail.
A mind lost.
In a wheelchair.
Tears fall, I watch you go.

By C.E. Pereira
(9-7-2017)

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Author: cepcarol

I'm a Eurasian of Portuguese, English, Scottish and Malay heritage. And my extended family are of Chinese and Indian heritage. My world is made up of different colours like the rainbow. And like the rainbow I am unique. Reading is my form of relaxation, to escape from the drudgery of daily life and enter into a world of the imagination. It is the love of reading that has led me to try my hand in writing short stories and poems. I hope that in some way my stories and poems will take you for a little while away from the drudgery of the present into the pages of imagination. To new friends found, I bid you, Welcome. Sincerely, C.E. Pereira

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