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Upon review and careful thought,
I’ve tallied what a year has wrought.
To start with one thing’s very clear:
the bad one’s now my better ear.

My reading glasses need a tweak
as Sunday puzzles take all week.
When to the spinet I proceed,
my fingers lack their former speed.

It is not proved, yet I suspect
that coffee now has no effect.
Most alcohol I hardly touch;
a couple beers is one too much.

To ask for help I’m now inclined,
with strong arm tactics reassigned.
I feel a need to climb the stair
then wonder why I’ve gone up there.

My appetite and I prefer
just simple fare or we demur.
My bedtime reading, if confessed
may sometimes lean to Edgar Guest.

If this keeps up, I fear the worst
This trend should really be reversed.