Reece Burkaauthor

The poetic city: A suite for Miss Helen

Feb 04, 2019 • Creative Writing

Performance garden, where music and plants play for all who listen. (Photo: Wiki Commons)

A Suite For Miss Helen

Lately, whenever I arrive for my weekly visits

to the Memory Unit of the Chateau,

Helen no longer looks up at me with

the surprised delight I have come to count on…

Nor does she seem to take great pleasure

in the jazz that I bring with me.

Last week I had to work hard

for each glimmer of a smile

that lasted but a second

before the inevitable droop

back into the darkness

where she appears to reside…

Leaving me to wonder

if my intrusions

disturb or brighten

the world she inhabits

as she endures the waiting

for she knows not what….

This week

I made up my mind

not to work for smiles…

Instead of carrying on

with exaggerated gesture

to draw her into her favorite music,

I sat with Helen in the garden,

quietly holding hands,

listening to her jazz,

and watching the birds come and go

And, when I was finally successful

in convincing myself that

I didn’t have to do anything

to make the time special for her,

I relaxed and became aware

that the tickling sensation

in the palm of my hand was Helen

keeping time with the beat

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