time of forgetfilness

Time of forgetfulness  

He had been to my house often likes to come here, stay for a few days,

 because of the nature where he can walk along overgrown tracks and

see how life used to be lived before. Now he could not find my house and

called me told me the name of the cafe where he had stopped.

 After a meal he went for his walk, but didn´t return and it was getting dark.

we found him under an olive tree he was lost, nothing he knew before

resembled the forest of dread he was in now. It took a while before he knew

me and when he did he cried, the game was up he was slowly succumbing to

Alzheimer. In the morning I drove him back to the town my wife was driving in

his car behind us. He spoke little and when he did mixed the past and present.

When we stopped outside his house he thought I was Dali Lama was flattered

to be in his presence; we arranged for him to go into a home, but before it could

be done he had a lucid moment and cut his life short, as he refused to follow 

the lane of the living death, a ghost that had no memories.