A Wish

*author's note* This is about my grandma. Seeing her Mother's Day was brutal enough to spark this poem.

week by week
hour by hour
getting worse.
getting better?
such a myth,
hope is reminiscent
barely.
an old
hard
cold shell
covers up what there was
who there was.
I can still hold your hand
or hug you close
but does it make you remember
who I am?
I look into your eyes
trying not to accept
that you are
slowly forgetting,
your children
your life
forgetting me.
I still carry a wish
that you won't forget I love you.