Some minutes fly-by in a flash
Some minutes fly with a dash
Some minutes seem so rightly
Elongated to share with you nightly

The hours are often so lonely
When all are asleep in their bed
When sleep is deprived by our ageing
And thoughts are awake in our head

Some days are hard but worth living
These days are more often than not
But most are really forgiving
And that stops what we often call 'rot’

The years seep out of our memory
Events are muddled and lost
We save important ones somehow
Recovered in time, at all cost

So I guess there are others like me
Out there in our troublesome land
Whose memory is now failing faster
Than the slight of a card dealer’s hand

So give me time to remember
Your name, or age or address
And please, please tell me kindly
If you think there’s a snag with my dress

By dress, you see, I mean outfit
I’m not gay, well, not in that sense
But politics, soccer and religion
Finds me on the proverbial fence.

It just goes to show this dementia
Can be a great source of much fun
For not all days are imperfect
And I wrote this poem around 1 (a.m.)