He doesn’t see as well as he thinks he remembers.
His fingers sometimes find it hard to bend.
He often can’t find the name to go with a face.
Sometimes he doesn’t hear but decides to pretend.
Weekends, week by week, are closer together.
Sometimes he has to sit down to put on his pants.
No lady seems to mind if he calls her Honey,
never grins nor even throws a glance.
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