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By John I. Blair

Most ways I cannot tell,
But then I will forget a name,
Lose track of what Iím at,
Find I can no longer play
Some passage in a Mozart piece
Or look at photos in a book
And recall the time and place.
Each thing seems small,
But incrementally
I am preparing for the day
My brain has gone to hell.

©2006 John I. Blair  

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