A Vision Of The Past Poem by Smoky Hoss

Walking into the optometrist office recently
I held open the door for a departing old man,
slowly leaving the building
and wearing gaudy Rhinestone sunglasses.
As he passed, long white hair perfectly in place,
he muttered, "Thank you…
Thank you very much."
As I walked up to the receptionist
I slowly realized that I recognized the old man,
so I asked,
"Hey. Was that really…"
She held up her hand,
stopping my question, and said,
"Yes… and he's going blind as a bat.
The only thing he ever sees anymore is
the big E
on the top of the eye chart.