That thing…

The time is upon us of those long hot days

everything moving at such a slow pace

I think I can hear the footsteps of my mind

though it seems to find itself in a bind

That thingamajig which kept it ticking and going

has vamoosed and gone into hiding

Playing peekaboo with sudden flashes and glimpses

like a novice I fail when within inches

Is it roaming like a nomad in search of greener pastures

am I no longer a good master

Has it has been lured by someone

for I can see in the vicinity the jealous one

All these years of practice at writing

gone to waste with that thing flying!

I enveigle it, as one would an errant young one

with treats of likes and comments well spun

I chew quills, tear empty page after page

raging at being so unfairly caged

If you see my thingamajig lurking somewhere

Just show it the path to my aboutwhere.

Friday Fun – quirky