Last July, my wife Esther started acting strangely. I had noticed that her memory had been spotty for about 3 years prior to this incident, but I was finally forced to have her admitted to a nursing facility for dementia. After downsizing and selling our home where we had lived for about 40 years, I was unable to sleep one night and the opening lines of the following poem came to me, so I got up and jotted them down:
Where is the girl I used to know?
I thought I saw her a minute ago,
With her long brown hair, falling free,