Demented Time
Time, you demented coot! You roam at night
Down hallways, hoping neglected rooms might
Remind you what it is you’re looking for
Though now forgotten in empty drawers.
“I know a something’s here somewhere, but,
Damn, if I could just remember what.”
You mutter, “Perhaps something I should wear
Though I can’t remember for what affair?”
Next morning, anxious, you inquire,
“When must I dress and what else required?”
I check the calendar, and to Time I say,
“There is nothing scheduled for your day.”
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