Stroke of Luck.
You seem to think I have a lot
Of something I just haven’t got.
The stuff of me before the flood,
That made my banks of memory mud,
And breached the damn of no return;
The damned of much new stuff to learn!
How to eat and how to talk,
Raise my arm and try to walk,
How to logically explain
I’ll never be the same again,
Since the time when I awoke
From the timely luck of stroke.