Jigsaw

A poem about dementia.

Jigsaw

On one day I saw the picture whole
Complete in every glorious scene
But strangers came and pieces stole
And no longer the whole I glean

Piece by piece the picture breaks
Maybe worn or lost, I cannot tell
Gaps where once were lovely lakes
And bluebells growing in the dell

I so try to fill the blanks in places
Even if the past is in the present
Come long dead, forgotten faces
Take and place in missing segment

Now jigsaw sometimes seems so strange
But I am not aware of the change.