Now my neurologist has made it plain
That something’s gone awry within my brain:
Dementia at an early stage seems clear,
And over time more symptoms may appear,
So my career of teaching soon might end
Because my memory’s gone round the bend.
The best I’ll hope for’s that the course is slow
And that my knack for poetry won’t go—
In fact perhaps this daily stimulus
Of making metered verse will prove a plus
And help retard cerebral decline,
An exercise in sound-and-sense design.
Now, otherwise, I’m vigorous and sound
And aim for some long time to be around.