Well I’m up the creek without a paddle
My life is a quiet sort of sad lonely muddle
Glaucoma has taken its toll
My vision you know still does fail
I moan and grown
It has to be known
And who’d have believed it
In a pandemic too
I feel out of my depth and what a to do
Please Don’t take your vision for granted
The seeds of hope I had now planted
But practical things get in my way
As my optic nerve ebbs away
To find peace solace and company too
Here On my own
And feeling blurry n blue
I just say to you
Get your eyes checked for the pressure
Cos glaucoma don’t give you much leisure
I always believe good will come
And soon I will have some fun
Rather than sit here in a mist alone
And you know me I moan and groan!
I’m sure my vision will get better each day
It’s mind over matter
Isn’t that what they say!
Rosy’s Prose 