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Summer of 88 ©

With a steadying hand I managed to walk.
With encouraging words you helped me to talk.
Each new day was a brand new slate.
I think it was the summer of 88.

Using the bathroom was a major event.
People watched over me wherever I went.
My food was scattered whenever I ate.
I think it was the summer of 88.

I'd suddenly chuckle and not know why.
For no special reason I'd break down and cry.
Surrounded by family monitoring my fate.
I think it was the summer of 88.

You'd think I was a toddler by the way that I act.
I can't remember names, or simple little facts.
The Golden Years of life were supposed to be great?
But not since the summer I turned 88.

- Richard Doyle -


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