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December 04, 2023

The Forgotten Name

By Carl Wade Thompson

A Ghost's Story: The Forgotten Name

My path has circled,
the loop is now at end.
But now I've come back,
to take my son home with me.
How many years have passed
when I died so long ago?
As I see my youngest son
has grown grey and old.
He's aged beyond his years,
skin wrinkled in folds.
But that's my son,
I know it is.
Now dying in an old folk's home.
I stay in the corner,
watch him waste away.
Long to hold him near,
to tell him it's okay.
But my son does not remember,
his thoughts have fallen away.
Dementia robbed his thoughts,
gone are his mindful days.
But as his light grows dim,
a candle flickering out.
then I can remember,
the name I called my son.
So long I've searched for it,
His lost, forgotten name.
But now it has come back,
use it one last time today.
He sits and rocks in silence,
a child once again.

Article © Carl Wade Thompson. All rights reserved.
Published on 2016-11-21
Image(s) are public domain.
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