Mementos of a Scatterbrain
A thought or two comes seeping out
to mark the break of dawn
escaping to the air I breath
with open-mouthed, wide yawn.
That light inside has flickered on
just looking for a clue;
I know I should remember what
I must have planned to do.
Oh, yes, a shower---that's for sure!
I wouldn't want to smell.
Reflections in the mirror say
I'm getting old as hell.
Caffeine does chase the sleep away;
I step outside the door---
but, now, my problem seems to be
I don't recall what for.
A calendar's hung on the wall,
but I've just locked the door.
I try the knob and realize
my keys are in the drawer.
One's hidden somewhere within reach
inside this old garage.
My scrambled thoughts can still recall,
but where's a vague mirage.
A ledge, a shelf, an old tin can?
Not one reveals a key.
Somewhere inside this brain of mine,
the answer lies in me.
I stumble on a rubber mat;
a thought pops in my head.
Although the key is underneath,
I should have stayed in bed.
At last, the door flings open wide;
I check what plans await.
Unfortunate as it may be,
I can't recall the date.
It seems not very long ago
my brain was sharp as tacks.
I must confess the overload
is countless, useless facts.
I'll name techniques for skating dance
and ev'ry breed of cat.
I'm excellent with blooming plants
and cooking low in fat.
Just don't you ask what day it is
or when I went to bed.
It seems such minor trivia
got lost inside my head.
By Peggy Paris
© 2008 Peggy Paris
(All rights reserved)
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