I hear them screaming. I see their fear filled faces and wonder what has frightened them. Strangers who seem to know me. Questions I have no answers for. The surroundings so unfamiliar. I must go home. They laugh and tell stories about people I do not know. I smile—it seems to make them happy. I have a glimpse of another time, another place. No, it’s gone. They call me Mom—I do not correct them. I smile, we embrace, they wave. It seems to make them happy. But, I must go home.
Further reproduction is by written permission only.
We welcome your poetry to share with other caregivers. Submission guidelines