I spend too many nights thinking
Wondering, writing, dreaming
Of someone who doesn't even think of me

When I was young

the word 'shame' was loud and strong

in middle-age I began to realise

such mindset was wrong-



now in my 'soon to say goodbye' days

with what my conscience says I can easily go along

life might not be all joys and grace

yet to myself I've every right to belong

If you were a watcher
What would you see
My day to day acting
Or me being me
My smile as I work
And chat to my colleagues
Or when I sit silent
Fighting the memories

If you were a watcher
Would you be surprised
To see me put my mask on
When I arise
After my meagre sleep
Awake with pain
To face one more day
Put my act on again

I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille