In a chair beside the window father
With a straight back, the men playing in white
Are as mayflies on the great pond rather
On the dull skein of his dreaming sight
And the family are gathered quiet
In the darkened recesses of his thoughts
And they menace him with dread claw and bite
‘til a sad spasm shows that he has fought;
A strong cable ties the brain together
Taut as the column holding legs and back
But when it goes it has gone forever
Freewheeling like a car whose handbrakes snapped
Heavily, dangerously, unrestrained,
Charging at windmills on some Spanish plain.
Christopher Woodall
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-alzheimers/
