First, it was his sight
Not so much the failing light
Just a weakening of the eyelid
One morning he was unable to blink fast
He begged his eyes not to spoil his breakfast
The last time he drank was the night before last
So now, why are his eyelids suddenly lazy?
And, why was the stomach suddenly gassy?
Seems his digestion was no longer easy
Now, it seems easier for him to feel queasy
The abrupt worries was making him a little dizzy
He must stop worrying now before he goes crazy!
Soon after, it was the spare tyre on his waist
This one appeared gradually without any haste
When his pants refused to fit, he was amazed
If only he knew that this was but a mere taste
Of what was next: joints that cry for a little rest
And a memory that is no longer at its best