Hurrah…summer is a coming…

Hurrah…summer is a coming…

I wrote a poem

In my head

When walking

Of course, I had no pen or paper

Why would I?

It was exercise

Cardio pumping along the foreshore

In the freezing cold

One of those mornings

That looks good

On the other side of a window

In a heated room

But needs a winter warmer

Until the blood binds

To the extremities

At a cellular level.

Just to be sure

I kept repeating lines

In time with my steps

An old trick

It usually sticks

The idea in place

And then when I get home

I can access it

Reconstruct it carefully.

I was sure most of it would come back

To me

But instead, I had a shower,

Coffee,

Finished the Guardian crossword,

Apart from two stupid ones

I should have known

The answer to

Which was annoying,

But less so

When I remembered I had forgotten

The poem.

No, I had actually forgotten.

It had gone

All of it

Without a trace.

Sitting down in front of a laptop

The light it throws out

Onto my face

Is like essence,

I suck it up

In the hope it will power

My reflection.

Hell no, it is gone

I have nothing.

An empty vessel.

But isn’t that what all

The literary pretenders say?

It is why the world is full

Of people who believe

They have the answer to

All the great questions

If only they could be arsed

To bother

To access their own headspace

When there are so many other

Interesting ways

To oil the wheels

Polish hard wood

Clean dirty jokes

Melt ice cream

Fit the pieces together.