memories fall from her
family tree scattered
by a cruel wind
she tries to catch them
with outstretched
arms, to rake them into
a pile so she can jump in
to scoop them into a basket
and save them to fertilize
her failing brain
they tease her, swirling
around like smoke then
flying away beyond her grasp
she picks up the ones that
fall at her feet but they are
dry and crumbly dissolving
into dust in her frail fingers