Growing Older

I dont see so well these days. Looking at my denim jeans All I see is a mix of indigo, French blue, grey and purple, Pixilated in woven rows, Like furrows in a field. I dont hear too well anymore. Static screeches, clothed in a Cotton wool camouflage, Disguises the reality With fuzzy interruptions, Like a badly tuned radio. What did I do yesterday? I'm not sure, But I think it was important. Clouded memories of a week Fade in and out, a slow-motion replay, With bits missing. But I can remember, With clarity; Childhood days, sunny times, Favourite toys and nursery rhymes. White horses, best dresses, Daisy fields and my golden tresses. Enid Blyton and the Famous Five Where I was when John Lennon died. Shadowy days are punctuated With distant memories, And deep-rooted feelings. Clutching bag and baggage, Full of all I hold precious, I'm tramping the long journey homeward.

Mixed bag