A friend of mine was 97 when she died and the last 5 years she no longer recognized her daughter although she talked about her 'daughter, Marie'. I know it was because her mind had harked back - and she didn't recognize the white haired woman who visited her as someone who was that long ago little girl. I got to thinking about it a few years back and wrote this song:

The Mists of Time

I remember I once had a family
And I know that I was happy then
For I can see their bright little faces
But I don't know where. Or when.

       Memories lost in the mists of time
       I don't know much anymore
       The years, the days, the hours all run together
       Memories lost in the mists of time

Yesterday - or was it just this morning?
They gathered 'round my rocking chair
I recall the scent of many candles
But I knew nobody there.