I asked a friend at a party to suggest a theme and he looked around and picked up a drinking glass. A bit of lateral thinking later and I was off.

Friends who actually wear glasses have praised this effort for its realism. However it's all made up—I've always had perfect vision. There are days when I'd swap that for more hair, but generally I count myself amazingly lucky.

Glasses

I have a pair of spectacles I got from an optometrist.
I need them if the world is not to lean and suffer from a list.
I'm also told I have a case of terminal myopia,
Which means without his help my life will steadily get gropier.

I have a dread suspicion too that I am going colour blind.
I find the brighter hues are always changing to the duller kind.
And finally to cap it off, I find I'm often seeing things,
Which march across my field of view, without exactly being things.

I wear my glasses when I can, despite the great futility.
I try to walk around a thing; what counts is it's agility.
And when the fuzzy blob that is myself begins to coalesce,
I find I've let my beard and mo' degenerate and grow a mess.

It's not a laughing matter when you walk into a pillar-box,
And matching all the colours isn't easy in a hill of socks.
So if the world begins again to lean and suffer from a list,
I'll throw away those glasses that I got from that optometrist.