Telling Tales (true or tall)

MEMORIES I reach over in my sleep To cuddle your warm, tousled body. But the sheets are cold. You no longer seek my comfort in the night.   I hear you chuckling down the hall, Are you playing and hiding in the kitchen? But the cupboard’s bare. There’s no laughter in you anymore.   I think I see you waving to me from afar And run towards you to find out why. Then you turn away. My advice no longer needed; you know all.   My mind knows this too will pass But my heart yearns for the happy toddler Who saw me, her mother, As the love and the light of her life.   Sandy Gillis ©   Submitted to Hinterland Times July 2019  -  Published Mar 2020

There's a stash of memories running wild in my brain! A maelstrom of phrases and words trying to escape. They're headbutting my skull, riding roughshod again, Jostling madly for position, lining up on my tongue And I'm frantically searching my dry mouth in vain, For those pithy recollections before they disappear.     Could I have reached the end of this corporeal life; Is senility attacking my mind, deleting all as it goes? My cutting wit, once much admired, sharp as a knife, Reduced to raving and mumbling, not making sense. In my mind I’m still young, not ready for the afterlife. I try to put fading memories into some sort of order.   Then suddenly, a light shines on one lone memory, Grandad saying, “It’s the forgetting that’s difficult.” And just like that, I recall every single tale and story, Which, a frantic minute ago, I thought had vanished. My audience is small, attendance wasn’t obligatory, And I feel the anxiety disappear, “H