That thingamajig

The time is upon us of those hot, long 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 completely and gone into hiding

playing peekaboo with precipitous peeks and glimpses

like a novice I fail when within a few inches

is it roaming like a nomad in search of greener pastures

am I no longer a good, clever master

has it has been lured by someone else

for I can see in the vicinity a jealous elf

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.

An old poem reworked for dVerse OLN being hosted by Sanaa.

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