Turning to Snow

When I've forgotten the color of my socks
or even if I've already taken Wednesday's pill
I will not forget your smile, even when your name
rests dormant in my chest and on my frail breath.
When the doctor explains my various conditions
thoroughly, with all the ituses and entias
( properly dotted and crossed )
I will still play checkers backwards
and count each car passing the house.
Yet I will always love how you made me feel
and that you took the time to latch my seat-belt
because I had forgotten how or why I should do so
or when I spilled food down my front, and that
you took the time to clean up such a silly mess.
I will always remember watching you sleep after
carrying you to bed when you tried so hard
to stay up to watch the star-spangled banner,
the poem about flight written by a jet pilot and
when the wakened world turned to snow.