Thursday, February 10, 2011


Old man, you’re ailing and you’ve not a lot
Of time remaining on your journey’s way.
Your memory’s become a narrow slot
That views some blissful past, not yesterday.

Your many decades of self-centered life,
Your gambling, bullying, philandering,
As you’ve steamrollered through wife after wife,
Now leaves you loveless.  Do you feel a sting?

Has conscience finally opened up in you?
Does looking at your life bring you regret
And make you think of deeds you would redo
If now you could?  Or do you just forget?

     The blindfold of dementia saves you from
     A final reckoning of your sinful sum.