A veil descends, both soft and thick,
A curtain drawn, a subtle trick.
The thoughts I had just slip away—
Ghosts that vanish in the day.
Words get lost mid-sentence deep,
Like echoes wandering half-asleep.
I chase them down familiar halls,
But memory stumbles, trips, then falls.
The clock still ticks, the world moves on,
But something in me feels half-gone.
A heavy hush behind the eyes,
Like staring through a dull disguise.
Ideas bloom, then fade to gray,
Like dreams that scatter with the day.
Each step I take feels slightly wrong—
A half-remembered, broken song.
And yet I smile, I nod, I try
To fake the light behind the eye.
But oh, to think with open skies,
And not this fog that never dies.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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