Having a Clew
Within my brain there’s residue
Of many things that I once knew
And on occasion, from the blue,
A word appears, as if on cue.
For on my phone, the word on view
(A daily treat, each morning due)
Was one for which my mem’ry drew
On Theseus, the hero who
Was seeking out an avenue
To leave a maze he’d ventured through
And did so, when he used a clew*
A maiden gave, who loved him true.
I’d read this tale (one of a few)
When I was young; as knowledge grew
I never thought I could construe
The key to “clew” without a clue.
*a ball of thread, yarn or cord
Copyright © Ilene Bauer | Year Posted 2017
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