Bless are they who understand My faltering step and paralysed hand, Blessed are they who know my ears today Must strain to catch each word they say. Blessed are they who seem to know My eyes are dim, my wits are slow, Blessed are they who look away When coffee was spilled at the table today. Blessed are they who never say "You've told that story twice today", Blessed are they who make it known That I'm loved, respected and not alone, Blessed are they who ease the days On my journey home in loving ways.
Arthur Lane
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