I knew this would lead me to verse eventually. It’s hard to believe that only a week or so ago Joan was being her normal annoying self and nagging me to change her watch battery. Of course when I went to my watch battery stash I didn't have the right size and made a mental note to get to the pound shop and get some. Then with all that kafuffle with her hip I didn't get there, but that didn't stop her nagging me about it. Then came the stroke and now there seemed to be little point in changing when she can't lift her arm to look or even see the time if she could.
I have a watch,
It’s not mine,
And if you were older
This would rhyme with eighty-nine.
But you are not
And that bloody clot
Makes my changing of the battery
Just how many times have I changed it?
Keeping you in time with your life again?
I don’t know,
A few times at least,
You really can be a pain.
So here’s the deal,
If you want to know the time
Don’t ask a policeman.
Just wake up.
I’ve put that bloody battery in.