My head is throbbing,
my fingers bobbing.
I attempt to write
but nothing sounds right.
Silly stories slip
off my mind’s thick dip.
The thing that I lack
may bring it all back.
It seems that’s the case
within this small space.
Why is my rhyming
now double timing?
Perhaps that’s what’s wrong,
why the day seems long.
Perhaps my wee head
needs more time in bed.
