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My family have finally fallen to sleep

I hear the gentle snoring and sleep chatter

Waiting for me on the end of my bed sits sleep

I turn my head to look at my wife and smile

Reclined, my eye lids heavily open and shut  

Thought stones skim the ripples of conscious mind

Dropping off words and phrases along its path

Damsel flies skip on the waters surface

Each collects a letter, word and phrase in bags

 

Each container forces sleep to retreat from my bed

Match sticks prop open each eye, words cascade

Moonbeams illuminate my writing pad and pencil

Lifting my head I see an iridescent glow on my notes

I reach for my reading light; hand merges with tableau

The table solidifies as the reading light removes the dark

Slowly I draw myself up leaning against the headboard

Enraptured by beams my vision tracks to a crack in the curtains

 

Locked onto the moon my eyes were transported into the cool night air

Clouds were washed together by the evening breeze, hiding stars

A crescent moon, like a giants toe nail, illuminates the skies

The thought stones cargo stole into the draws of my memory bank

Suddenly slices of recent past silhouetted against the house opposite

I see pictures of me staggering; racked with pain; laughter

Slides depicting possible futures for me and my Parkinson’s disease

It’s hard to envisage a future with any degree of certainty

 

The crack in the curtain offered a slice of possibility of a time yet to be

It occurred to me that these could be’s are the same for everyone

I certainly will have to make a few more adjustments to enable me

Who chooses the pathway which provide the goals for my family and me

At a momentary pause in my reflection it dawns on me, yeah it’s me

If it wasn’t for Parkinson’s disease I wouldn’t have written my stories

If it wasn’t for Parkinson’s disease I wouldn’t have performed on stage

If it wasn’t for Parkinson’s disease you wouldn’t be reading this poem