These eyes can no longer thread needles,
read newspaper print or pick a splinter
from my grandchild's throbbing finger. They
no longer hold the twinkle that caught a
young man's heart some sixty-five years ago.
These eyes can no longer see past twilight
where hyperopia and cataracts blur my vision
of your face, but not my memories of you.

© by Arlene Antoinette.
Used with the author's permission.