This poem was sent to us by one of our supporters Sarah Habermass. It is about her father who sadly passed away in 2017 with Lewy body dementia. He was Welsh, a keen gardener and an ex-teacher, and through the poem Sarah has tried to convey how she imagined his world to be, while living with Lewy body dementia.

 Lockdown

A caged bird

I weave through

The thick black fog of memories

In my fractured mind

I am seven

Catching a rugby ball

Mud-caked grey shorts

Welsh rain

Face and uniform pierce my view

Is that you, mother?

Prodding, poking, turning

A proud man

No more dignity

Who is teaching my class today?

The children are in the corridor

Anxiety grips my chest

I need to check the car

Does it still start?

Who will mow my lawn?

Prune my rouge-red roses

This isn’t my home

I want to get out

Where is the old me

My stolen life

A face at the door

Is that you, Gladys?

The real one?

A soothing voice

Familiar perfume

Freshly-baked Welsh cakes

A warm hand in mine

Calmed by love, for now.