Important repost

On April 17, 2006, I wrote this poem for my Great Aunt Doris, who had Alzheimer's. Almost two years after I wrote this poem, on April 24th, Aunt Doris passed away. I'm going to read this poem tomorrow at the funeral. I thought I would repost it in honor of her loving memory. I edited the end slightly.

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Memories

A decorated tin filled with
Little white shortbread cookies with
Little rainbow sprinkles that make the
Milk turn colour sits on the
Kitchen table.
A small fold-out table made of tin with
Sturdy aluminum legs and the peaceful scene of a
Forest brook in autumn, surrounded by shady sepia foliage and
The glimpse of a deer is set up before the
Couch, with a
Small box of dominoes spilled over in preparation for
A game to be played.
I can't quite tie my
Shoes yet, but he helps me.
Two bunny ears. Tuck under. Pull. Now it is a
Bow.

An overstuffed yellow armchair sits by the
Dusty screen door, and beyond that is the
Porch, where the
June bugs used to collect at night and buzz in our ears.
Strawberries grow here too, I remember, within the
Tufts of pale green grass.
She has me gather them in a
Porcelain dish that is wreathed with
Painted-on autumn leaves. I pick them and
She washes them for me, and
We eat them together.

This is what I remember, and though
You cannot, I will keep remembering
For both of us.

Lonely but never alone

I had a dream last night that inspired me to write this little bit here. Not sure if I'll continue with it later or what.

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Natski's eyes fluttered open. A cold, grey light was pouring in from the nearby window, and she heard a faint tapping. The room was as cold as the light, causing her to shiver as she attempted to leave the bed. The strong arm about her waist, however, prevented this, and she had to stall before trying again.
"Where are you going?" asked the voice of the man beside her.
"To the window," Natski replied, quietly.
"To what end?" the man murmured. His arm tightened about her and she felt his breath on her neck, leading to his lips pressing to her in a kiss.
"I'll - be back in a moment," Natski said uncomfortably. She felt the arm about her waist tighten and release, as though in an affectionate squeeze. Any intended affection was lost on Natski. She escaped and fled to the window, which she opened with haste. She faced away from her husband, who had rolled over in their bed to watch her. She stifled a shiver as the cold air greeted her.
"Cold morning," she murmured, leaning forward slightly - she leaned out of her husband's view.
Quietly, the man who had been making the tapping leaned forward and gave Natski a kiss, again out of view from her husband. He had been sitting there all morning, gently tapping and waiting for this moment.
This beautiful, painful moment.
Natski felt tears sting her eyes as she leaned into the kiss, those same eyes drooping to a close. Her body was no longer controlled by her mind; she let her emotions be her puppetmaster. Her arms wrapped around her love's neck and tightened. She could feel her husband's eyes from the bed. She didn't care.
"Come away from the window, my love," came her husband's voice. It wasn't a comforting way of saying it. It was more of a scolding. Natski broke the kiss, her tears flowing freely.
"Just a moment longer," she said softly, more to her beloved before her than her husband in the bed. The man before her obliged her in a tender kiss with the haunt of finality, and then Natski stepped back away from the window.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, then glanced back to see her husband staring at her love with an icy glare. Her husband placed an arm tightly around Natski's waist, leaned forward, and shut the window with his other hand. Then he kissed Natski so her beloved could see, and pushed her away from the window.

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Yeah, definitely could use some editing. I hope you enjoyed, however. I may write more eventually; maybe I'll edit it later.

K.