where are they, <br />hanging on the bridge <br />of my nose. <br />or another place of repose <br /> <br />placed or misplaced <br />I need them to disclose, <br />the print on the page <br />to focus and read to me, <br /> <br />blurs and patches <br />they are helpful, <br />but not for understanding. <br />no matter how long I peer and squint, <br /> <br />no glint of meaning, will apear, <br />just graphics and alphabet letters <br />line after line one above the other <br />after use of an hour or so, <br /> <br />red eyes, tears, <br />with a look of conjunctivitis <br />stare and glare <br />till I come back to my self <br /> <br />disposition distressed, displaced <br />I push these aids above my orbs <br />sit on my forhead, forgetting, <br />where did I put my glasses <br /> <br />a spectacle sometimes affectatious <br />alas I really do misplace them too often <br />or is it old age in limbo <br />creeping up from behind<br /><br />shimon weinroth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eye-glasses-my-spectacles/
