Challenged to write a poem about forgetting, I thought I’d better get on with it at once.
My brain is like netting:
It keeps on forgetting
The things that I need to recall.
It’s one of my goals
To sew up the holes,
And then I’ll remember them all . . .
I’ll do it tomorrow.
But first, I must borrow
A needle and big reel of cotton.
(On second thoughts, though,
That might be too slow –
By tomorrow, I shall have forgotten . . .)