Liminal

It is the change she’s going through,
with Lewy taking charge of her;
unwelcome partner, her estate --
no marriage of convenience.
She talks a lot, but to herself,
soliloquy as commentary,
performance in her benefit,
though none she’ll know or profit from.

She sings those songs of Sunday School --
that record left some years ago --
but now dredged up, deep memory,
the liminal for seventh age.
‘Jesus friend of little children.
be a friend to me’ synapse chimes,
as do the scrapbooks of her youth.
but not late stranger family.

Old order passing, customs new,
though past and now unknown to her,
the present gift but poor reward,
save unaware it’s been unwrapped.
If eyes are wells into her soul.
’tis mine that brim for vacant stare
that greets me -- pupils in her class,
though nothing learn, as if downcast.