Lost Glasses
Losing them wasn't in the plan
Or even contemplated.
So myopic my eyes since childhood
Their loss can't be overstated.
Glasses on the bedside table,
Last to take off, first to put on.
As my fingers fumble for them,
Sadly, I must admit they're gone.
Squinting, I try to see the clock.
Everything blurs. Is it time for lunch?
Standing, I hear a definite crunch.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
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