Gray Matter Of Late Poem by David Thomas

you words you dance elegantly so
from the tip of my tongue to the rear of my ear
from the front to my rear
and all around again
you mesmerize others with your dazzling ways
you drink before night and bathe before day
should good morrow exclude
all but a single last chance
should you beseech me i shall take it
with but every last gasp,
there is no telling
in this life so dear,
when the light will stop lighting
and the breaths will stop so dear
there is never warning
nor any kind of sign (rarely) ,
should something be done of this aging dilemma
yet i still struggle here
as these words plague my mind and my thoughts
they all leave
't was always i lost memory,
but only once did never i receive.