We went for a totter, potter

he and I

hand in hand in the hazy harvest noon

matching hat a’piece.

We found glossy rook feathers

to add to each  -  and fir cones.

 

he said

as we walked along the oak-blobbed meadow

heavy with summer green.

arm into mine.

he adds.

 

Yes, why not

I agree

And when I asked him if he remembered my name

he said.

 

 

 

(this poem won the Alzheimer Societies  prize, 1991 ).