Remembering is irrelevant

little blue photo album

holding pictures of two

little girls in dresses

fragile cellophane sleeves

storing moments and places

she doesn’t remember

the milestones of her life

are merely fluttering tableaus

trapped in a still life

shuffled in time like windblown leaves

and collaged in the imperfect memory

of her brain

I wonder what is in that brain—

the mathematician she once was,

the young tennis player, the lazy golfer,

the pack-a-day smoker, the social butterfly

and the college professor--all wrapped into one;

all gone

now, wrapped in a Ralph Lauren quilt

with her name ironed on the hem

with pictures anchored to the walls--

sound muffled, eyes clouded, ever sleepy

yet… she is…

happy to see me.