I think Iíve seen this room before,
Though Iíve no memory for places.
Strangers smile; Iím fairly sure
I ought to recognize their faces.
Though Iíve no memory for places,
My son, I know, is forty-three.
I ought to recognize their faces;
My children often visit me.
My son is nearly thirty-three;
My headís in such a dizzy whirl!
My children sometimes visit me;
My daughter has a little girl.
My headís in such a dizzy whirl,
It makes me feel a proper fool!
My daughterís just a little girl,
Whoíll soon be old enough for school.
I think my son is twenty-three.
Though strangers smile, Iím fairly sure
My children never visit me.
Iíve never seen this room before.
If you have any comments on this poem, Brian Allgar would be
pleased to hear from you.