A long time ago I could see

I could see individual blades of grass

I could see the tiniest print

And faces crisp and clear
Today my glasses broke

And all is a blurry mist

Green smudges – is that grass

And a smudges smile, friend
As for print: reading books

I miss the smell the most

Even words within my mouth

Are uttered with less verve
At this point I need glasses all the time

To stop driving in ditches

To help me find my friends

Without them saying – I have no shame.

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