I'm getting my glasses removed
Tomorrow, on thirtieth June
Words cannot describe what I feel
Sight without them would be a boon
To see clearly as soon as I wake
Looking at the time with no strain
Yet I'm scared- will I lose my vision?
Or will this be the end of my pain?
A surgery's a strange affair
I'm afraid- but I won't say a word
Lord, I pray, grant me the strength
To deal with whatever will occur
With the grace, the will of your smile
With the patience of a tortoise
To amble gently towards my end
With steadfast feet, and a bit of poise.