He's Almost Half-Blind Now
He’s almost half-blind now
his right eye, oh my!
Once-fabulous hand-eye coordination
replaced by daily frustration
Doesn’t hear too well these days
"Again... Please repeat! What did you say?"
His spine looks like a barber’s pole
feels like a whack-a-mole
Hips stiffer than petrified wood
his walker does him little to no good
Knees like old-fashioned shoes, they buckle
if it weren’t for the agony, he’d chuckle
As for his feet, the bottoms have no feeling
the slightest crack in the pavement sends him reeling
But he’s determined to count his blessings
even if with his body nature seems to be messing
He can still see well enough to write a story
his left eye spared damage, thanks to God in all His glory
And the latest gossip he doesn’t have to hear
doesn’t even have to cover his ears
As for his crooked spine, mindfulness came with it as a gift
a practice - a habit - he now knows not to give short shrift
I could go on through the rest of his body's litany
but surely you already know ~ this poem is about me
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