Let Us Give Thanks
for the sturdiness of walking sticks,
their purposeful and doughty rubber feet;
for large print, for vari-focals, or — at a pinch —
those gaudy magnifying specs from Boots;
for bus pass, offer of a seat, the chance
to eavesdrop greedily on other lives;
for batteries in all those private life-supports
and phones whose buttons stand out, oversize;
for wines with screw-caps, delivery drivers
who’ll haul the goods upstairs without a tip;
for bed socks, Skype, radios with pre-sets;
and Velcro. Definitely Velcro.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, D.A. Prince would be pleased to hear them.