This memory-loss thing is becoming a drag

Like the time that I went for my keys from my bag

I stood on the threshold, and feeble I'm not

But what I was doing there, I plumb forgot

It happens more daily, it's like a brain melt

To recall, there’s gaps where my memories dwelt

I conquer forgetfulness by making lists

Wondering how much exactly of the real me still exists

I wouldn't say Alzheimer's, that's too severe

But the senior moments make themselves clear

It's old age creeping up with a smack in the chops

With a mind like a sieve and a bum-knee that pops

It's the way we progress from our youth to old age

Where we're not quite old yet but we're nearing that stage

It's a syndrome with sadly no hope that it passes

Now what the bloody-hell have I done with my glasses?