Thoughts drip drop
A single word loses shape
I reach into the well
But it's drier than a desert plain
I search the horizon of my cerebral cortex
Two...Four...Six...
But the word is pale, faded and forgotten
Much like the tale of Lucius of Hadrian
Thoughts drip drop
I've moved on
Said a little eulogy to the dearly departed
Ah! But here I go again!
It's an endless roundabout of irrecoverable
terms
Two...Four...Six...
Evenly spared and yet oddly marred
I've followed the yellow brick road
It led to a hollow and broken abode
Two...Four...Six...
Images flicker half-formed and half remembered
Such as the memories of a dream upon waking are dismembered
Thoughts drip drop
I've now held on too long
to the possibilities of recall
The possibilities are infinite
Two...Four...Six...
I dare not retrace my neural steps
How dare I look back
Two hours trapped
Four excuses
Six seconds to hold my breath
Rinse and repeat for optimal performance!
Thoughts drip drop
A single word loses shape
I reach into the well
But it's drier than a desert plain.
Hello..
Hello. I came upon your poem by chance. I'm glad I did. You sound like the type of person who knows how to make lemonade from lemons. Orange, you? If you concentrate, I think you can. Thanks for posting. Take care.