On Forgetting Poem by John F. McCullagh

The thing about losing one's mind Is that it doesn't happen all at once.
No, the loss is a creeping gradual thing, never occurring in a nonce.
It starts with some forgotten names; some dear, some famous but, to you, not.
Next you're at a loss for words you've often used but now cannot.
You find yourself on an oft trod trail which suddenly is strange and new.
Its getting dark, its growing cold and the police have to be sent for you.
There is a fear that chills the soul that only knows that it knows not.
Hanging on that precipice fearing you will be forgot
Yet when that last forgetting comes your fear will be forgotten too.
And you'll greet Death like an old friend whose name will surely come to you.
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