The clock upon the whitened wall
Showed time of half past four;
I sauntered down the silent hall
And passed beyond the door.

Another Monday came and went,
A mundane kind of day;
No point explaining what that meant,
There isn’t much to say.

I left the place of my employ
And crossed the busy street;
As ritual decreed (oh, joy!),
I had a bus to meet.

The terminal that afternoon
Was filled with many friends,
All leaving Downtown very soon
For their respective ends.

The coach arrived – a quick express
To whisk me far away
From all the customary stress
Those simple tasks convey.

At last, I reached my stopping place,
And there I disembarked;
I hastened to the normal space
My vehicle was parked.

As I approached, I grew perturbed,
And I could only stare;
My peace of mind became disturbed –
The van…it wasn’t there!

I did not fuss or shed a tear;
I reasoned, with a smirk,
My van, indeed, would sit right here
Had I not driv’n to work!

I’ll end this tale of mental strife
By sharing this riposte:
Of all the things I’ve lost in life,
I miss my mind the most.

© 2005 by Robert E. Blackwell