Words

A little something I wrote a while ago, when I was getting annoyed with myself and how I forget words when I need them.

Words

Spectacles perched upon my nose

Cannot help me with my prose.

The words I need disappear,

Honestly! They should be here.

 It’s as if I’ve put them in a cupboard,

Waiting, patiently to be re-discovered.

At times I appear quite mad,

As though my memory’s very bad.

Failing to find an errant word,

When I can easily recall the absurd.

For one that was once verbose,

I’m left feeling most morose.

And you’d think I’d never learnt to speak,

That, or I’m quite possibly Greek.

Oh and you should hear me on the phone,

The poor callers wish that I hadn’t been home.

Some are patient and we get there,

Others ask for those responsible for my care.

I bite my tongue, politely tell them,

‘Call back later, I’ll have remembered by then.’

Val Hughes