Steve Lang - Paralysis Agitans

'You spend years and years trying to become who you are…..and then you forget. It's terrifying' Peggy Seeeger

Was ever a man so perfectly at peace,
As my Wee Papa sitting on the stoop
Of his sunlit Glasgow council house, his pipe
In hand, mind drifting, smoke-like on some reminisce?
I recall ingenious 'Black Prince' tales he told
Extempore, eyes bright with wit and mischief-
And the helpless shoulder-shake of his mute laugh.
But hands that bore his Sten aloft up 'Gold',
Now grip my arm with piteous desperation,
As side-by-side we confront the crossing, loo
To lounge. I count to counter the dyskinesia,
As he's stricken by another stuttering seizure
'One- two, one-two'- mark time, and then, on 'Two! '
We lunge, as one, to seek co-ordination.

Steve Lang

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paralysis-agitans/