I’m often (‘shame would have it hid’)
forgetting simple things I did.
The failure’s worse each passing year;
it’s indisputable, I fear.
Is this dementia drawing near?

Two items I today mislaid,
and, though an atheist, I prayed,
‘Lord, show me where the car keys are,
then show me where I parked the car.’
Have I declined so fast, so far?

Tonight I bathed, and carefully
I dried the nether parts of me
until a nagging thought arose:
did I just dry between my toes?
I’m getting older, I suppose.

The clock strikes twelve. And so to bed.
No sooner have I laid my head
than, ‘Did I lock the outside door
or not, five minutes since, no more?’
Synapses on the blink, I’m sure.

I hope, now doubts like these assail
my clouded mind, that I’ll not fail
completely; that I’ll still retain
a working though defective brain
until I’m earth and air again.