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The door swings open
Into a hall of rose-scented pain
White coats brush past
I follow them meekly
To a room full of aged blank stares
Memories of years gone by
Lost in the company of the crowd
I see you sitting at a corner table
Alongside the plastic ferns
You smile vaguely at the chesspiece your hand rests on
The move you were to play
Lost in your thoughts
I call your name close to your ear
And lose myself in your embrace
You whisper a name in gratitude
Not mine
My mother’s
Your eyes are glazed
Blind to my pained lips,
Working feverishly to hold in the truth
Costume change
The original soiled
Your mood swings
As does the baton conducting disorientation
Decorations do nothing
To assist the strained laughter of those you love
Hours pass
The sky darkens
I escort you back through the door
Through the hall
The scent changed to an ancient musk
I sit you back at the corner table
Alongside the plastic ferns
I kiss your cheek
You see me
You smile
Your eyes glaze
I have the face of a distant memory
You thank me for your Easter lunch
I smile
I break
I don’t have the courage to tell you it’s Christmas