I'm on the ground
Down on my knees,
Covered with filth,
Fighting off fleas.
What did I do
To deserve this fate,
But come to America
To improve my state.
A terrible thing, this, you see.
It's happening now
And it's happening to me.

Some whiskers that were on my chin,
have rebelled and are off again.
Unsure the way they left, or how,
but they're back; up in my brow.
Growing North, South, East and West.
I wish they would grow, with the rest.
There never was a brow that was dark
so I assume this growth but a lark.

In the US Navy and been at sea.
Doing Island Surveillance,
My mates and me.
Pulling into the Harbor
Our anchor drops
Into the waters of this beautiful bay,
At the South Pacific Island of Ponape.
We go ashore to walk about
And observe this Island life.
A native male, in a loin cloth.
One picture of me with ancient
Island wealth; Stone money called Fey.
The stone is not of this Island
And was carried in a dugout from
Where; not known.
Our mission was to check the population,
Pass out medicine and rations.
A great lesson of history in kind
Of reversing back to another time.

This life I knew,.
The wife I had,
Is now askew,
Has gone bad.

Dementia isn't good
And will never be,
Wish that I could,
Provide help to thee.

Trying hard to please
Caring, about every day,
Down on my knees
To think and pray.

It doesn't matter
Doing it this way,
For all the idle chatter,
Here I will stay.

To be with you
And for my care,
Please let me do,
So you are aware.