Growing old sometimes starts with the brain
as thinking is never quite the same
remembering what you wanted to do
is lost and you really haven’t a clue
of what it was you were thinking about
and retracing your steps is the only way out
to recover that thought that slipped your mind
in the hope it comes back in time
sometimes though if that doesn’t work
going back to the task where your thoughts might lurk
doing over whatever it was at the time
hoping your thinking falls in line
keeping meetings is something hard to construe
unless somewhere is written a reminder or two
a note for the day letting me know
a Doctor’s appointment with a two o’clock show
and when I need to go to the store
a handwritten note just like before
computers and Iphones were all the rage
a list jotted down on the page
torn out of one of the old notebooks
from days gone by with yesterday’s looks
that I still keep laying around
with lots of memories so profound
what’s the good of growing old
if you can’t remember the things you were told
and the thoughts are still there but harder to get
takes a lot more effort for the brain to set
forgetting the words from the last cameo
but remembering the kids from a long time ago
and places and cities and everyday events
are recovered quite easily as the mind ferments
but I cannot remember who
the names of people I just haven’t a clue
and even though I try very hard
nothing works in this regard
and so a conversation I hold
never once their name ever extolled
I hum and I hah and mumble a lot
hoping that they don’t notice that I forgot
their name that I really should have known
which comes to me later when I am alone
one of these days way down the road
the clock inside me will implode
and the signals that my brain sends out
will all shut down and without any doubt
it matters not what I can’t recall
that final sleep will take care of it all.