Entangled Thoughts

Thoughts weave into a jumbled tumbleweed.

Little by little, a seed may drop,

Yet it doesn’t plant knowledge,

But scatters holes where once nerve endings snapped to attention.

If only a bird could pluck those thoughts, like a worm, from the thorns of Alzheimer’s,

And give the person peace, instead of confusion.

red cylindrical metal

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

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