A COMING OF AGE STORY.
 
 
It  was a kind of Autumn.
And Cruel at that,
When memory did go,
                 Did go,
 
And so did her  knowing,
When our Ship,
Elaine the Fair,
Did Sail,
Gently,
Softy at First,
 
On a serene  Sea,
Of Mirrored Glass,
Of Deep unknowing,
Alzheimer’s had struck,
 
And then We did Grieve,
Not  once,
But Twice,
Are sad Farewells,
Grown,
In that Good Mourning.