As the December portion of life's treacherous journey arrives,
We tend to contemplate things that have happened in our lives.
Strange that we can recall events that occurred fifty years ago,
But now can't remember what day it is, adding to our woe!
Writing notes to ourselves regarding things that must be done,
We forget where we put them, leaving many things undone.
Tying a string around the finger to remind us of our obligations,
We wonder what it's doing there, adding to our frustrations!
Where the car was left in the parking lot is anybody's guess;
To find it is akin to the Israelites wandering the wilderness.
We misplace the house and car keys, causing panic untold,
But that's just another cross we must bear for growing old!
Going to another room to do something, our steps we retrace,
Having forgotten what we went there for in the first place.
Running amok searching for lost glasses causes us much dread;
Usually they can be found perched upon the top of our head!
Those dreaded senior moments are part of growing old, I suppose,
But if I may, here is something that I would like to propose:
Well, I declare, I forgot what it was I was going to say;
Maybe I'll think of it later to suggest another day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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