Bad Memory, Bad Present
- Poor excuse for a rubbish gift
I can't remember what this poem was going to be about when I started,
but it ended up as being a long drawn out excuse for a rubbish
Christmas present!
My diary has an expiry date,
Which means that I'll be late
To appear for anything next year.
My little list that shows the gist of
The million things that I should've
Done today seems to have gone astray.
The binder for my reminder pad
That records the thoughts I've had
Is no more to be found on the floor.
My ageing mind fails to find facts
As the size of my memory contracts.
I'm not prepared for it to be impaired.
Please excuse any words that I use
That don't make sense in the shoes.
Or names and faces in wrong places.
My memories have an expiry date,
After which it is now their fate
To be lost, no matter what the cost.
So last December, I can't remember
What I may or may not have sent yer.
So here's some rocks wrapped in socks.
One or the other may be your colour.
Category: "Humour"
Written by Keith Lambell, March 4th 2004
Poem viewed 29 times since March 2002.