Strangers Smile                                                     
 
I think I’ve seen this room before,
Though I’ve no memory for places.
Strangers smile; I’m fairly sure
I ought to recognize their faces.
 
Though I’ve no memory for places,
My son, I know, is forty-three.
I ought to recognize their faces;
My children often visit me.
 
My son is nearly thirty-three;
My head’s in such a dizzy whirl!
My children sometimes visit me;
My daughter has a little girl.
 
My head’s in such a dizzy whirl,
It makes me feel a proper fool!
My daughter’s just a little girl,
Who’ll soon be old enough for school.
 
I think my son is twenty-three.
Though strangers smile, I’m fairly sure
My children never visit me.
I’ve never seen this room before.

Brian Allgar

If you have any comments on this poem,  Brian Allgar would be pleased to hear from you.