Alzheimer’s Shuffle

A Triolet about the love between my great-grandfather and great-grandmother towards the end

Photo by Noita Digital on Unsplash

Your eyes are pulsars searing through me.
Candlelight memories melt into volcanic tomorrow.
I, nothing but a shuffle of an Alzheimer’s dream.
Your eyes are pulsars blazing through me —
I remember chrysanthemums dangling in your hair
when the world was alive, a meadowlark…