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Don Mulford

The Amnesiac

I woke at six this morning,
Slowly tumbled out of bed,
And I shuffled to the bathroom,
Scratching idly at my head;
There I looked into the mirror
With my bleary, bloodshot eyes,
And I thought, What will this day bring?
Every day’s a big surprise!
Then turning absentmindedly,
I closed the bathroom door,
And I stood, bemused, bewildered,
Gazing helpless at the floor.
Why was I in the bathroom?
What was I supposed to do?
Why was my face all lathered up?
I wish! I wish I knew!
Of course! I’ve come in here to shave;
It’s time to start the day.
I’ll try to look presentable
Before I go my way.
But tell me, just which way is that?
Where do I have to go?
Perhaps today is Saturday!
I really hope that’s so!
For if it’s really Saturday
I’ll try hard to relax;
No work-a-day decisions now,
My memory cells to tax:
I’ll grab a book and hope
That I’ll remember what I’ve read,
But if my memory fails again,
I’ll go right back to bed!
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I wonder why I’m writing this?
It makes no sense to me!
Perhaps I had a reason when I started,
Let me see!
I think that I was challenged;
Put a poem on the page
About that strange amnesia
That befalls us as we age;
So I wrote a little poem,
Perfect rhyme and meter, too,
But I don’t know where to send it!
I’ve forgotten what to do!
So I’ll store it on my hard drive;
My computer won’t forget,
And if I recall the URL
You might read it, even yet!