With such anxiety to hear I become deaf,
Straining worse, if the accent is British.
She means well, it is not her fault,
If I am sensitive.
Tears arrive inside my lower eyelids,
Ready to flow, but won’t.
Severe adjustment for any couple after
Initial years is needed.
While writing the poem,
It’s me that flows out in instalments.
Not easy when evenly matched, I daresay,
At 65, I have got – lumped - it, almost!
Giddy but I don’t throw up: a sugeron tablet
Ascends through ears to stabilize the brain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem