Forgetfulness
Sometimes when I get out of bed
I think I must have left my head;
Perhaps upon the pillow shed
The remnants of my brain.
Too sleepy yet to pace around,
My mental ship has run aground.
Perhaps the answer has been drowned
Deep in the briny main?
For once upon a time, I knew
The things that I today must do;
But nowadays I have no clue,
Which goes against the grain.
Does everyone have days – no, years –
When thinking straight just disappears?
The lump between their own two ears
Gone swirling down the drain?
I go from room to room, to see
If revelation comes to me;
Enlightenment must surely be
Straightforward to attain.
I’ll purse my lips and crease my brow;
Why is my head so empty now?
It doesn’t help much, anyhow,
No matter how I strain.
Perhaps it’s just advancing age.
Should I feel sadness now, or rage,
Or guilt, because I can’t engage?
And yet, what would that gain?
And as the sun swings through its course,
There’s nothing I can do to force
An answer. And a grim remorse
Is all that will remain.
It’s dark once more, and I must creep
Back up the stairs to get some sleep.
Perhaps by counting night-time sheep
A thought will come again.