#196
Knobby and Impaired
I used to have a sense of smell;
It's mostly gone, alas.
My nose just sits upon my face
Like dust upon green grass.
I used to have a sense of touch;
It too has disappeared.
Now my hands are burned and sore
Like steak that's just been seared.
Sight and sound still mostly work,
Though both need extra aid.
With sight it's new bifocals;
With sound it's soft then fade.
Senses are a marvelous gift,
Our way to know our world.
Old age however wipes them out,
And leaves us gnarled and knurled.