MY REMEMBERER IS BROKE - REVISITED
Recently I wrote a poem
called, My Rememberer is Broke.
I wasn’t really serious,
it was intended as a joke.
But, for some it touched a nerve
and wasn’t all that funny,
though it was mostly about me
with parts of it, about my honey.
I wrote it for my mom,
just some fun I wanted to poke.
A little something for her to read,
while having her morning smoke.
You see, I sometimes don’t remember things
and I live here all alone.
Just the other day I had to call myself,
‘cause I couldn’t find my phone.
And recently I found the TV remote
in the cradle where the phone should be.
I wondered who could have put it there,
knowing all along the answer was me.
Like I said, I live alone,
there’s no one I can blame.
I always say, “That’s the last time.”
Yet, it keeps happening just the same.
I find things in all sorts of places
that I know they don’t belong.
I’ve heard them sing about things like that,
but I can’t remember who sings that song.
Found my keys in with the silverware,
while I was looking for a spoon.
I’d been looking for the damn things,
since yesterday afternoon.
I spend hours on my computer
and I’d probably spend many more,
but they keep asking for my key word
and I can’t remember where its stored.
Over the years I’ve used different ones
before I completely filled my brain.
Now when I try to recall them
it causes memory strain.
I’m sure I wrote them down
and stored them where they’d be safe,
but now I can’t remember where,
boy that really makes me chafe!
Seems things often get misplaced
and I know it’s all my fault.
I just keep forgetting things
like the combination to my vault.
I bought it to keep my things safe,
should have gotten one with a key.
turns out the one they’re safest from
just happens to be me.
Course if it had a key,
I'd have to keep track of where is was,
something else for my brain to remember,
which it hardly ever does.
So, I stashed my spare money
till the combination was resolved.
Then I couldn’t find it,
oh the nasty words I mouthed.
I finally came across it
long after I’d given up.
It was up in my cupboard
inside my favorite coffee cup.
I’m sure I put it there
during a brief moment of reason,
thinking my next cup of coffee
would turn out really pleasing.
Pleasing doesn’t describe
the sensations that I felt,
for if I was a religious man
I’m certain I would have knelt.
You see that stash of money,
was quite a healthy wad
and if I’d have never found it
I’d have had a serious talk with God.
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Just try to call a friend to call you back to find the cell phone that you lost but then realize you can't call anybody because the phone you lost is your only one...wonderful getting older and living alone, isn't it? ED