Sickly mirror friend,
what happened to him?
Slippery tile sends
momentum o'er he.
I, floored, sprung a leak:

How long ago I could smell lilacs,
mind bequeaths not,
for these structures are fraught.

By what mechanism?

Amyloid-Beta clouds methinks;
my limbering thoughts cross.
To think on such a gloomy day,
their way is assuredly lost.