A picture springs to mind,
A scramble of pen and paper,
Quick before it is lost,
Particles falling,
Of this memory of mine,
Pushed by adrenaline,
I root through my drawers,
Quick a pen!
Reach it before it is gone.

Armed with this,
I crouch down low,
To spring upon an unsuspecting piece of paper,
That may have found its’ way below.

I search the surface of the floor,
My senses alert for a rustle,
Perhaps a patch of white,
Quick, I see it,
There lying on top of my chair.

It must be grabbed before the wind takes heed to my lair,
But alas it has,
The paper is swung into the air,
I spring into action,
Dancing along,
In a vain attempt to deceive the wind,
And snatch that piece of paper.

I twirl and whirl with a smile on my face,
Not forgetting its’ reason,
I fling myself at the paper,
Stuffing it into my pocket,
It must not escape!

A table! A table!
How had I forgotten?
In panic,
I rush around the room,
Had I not bought a table less than two years ago?



I pull out books,
Breaking many items,
Searching for a table.

I run across the room,
Finding only to be flung across a smooth surface,
Newspapers, cups, plates thrown to the side,
A table! A table!

Quick,
Get the chair,
Sit right down,
Hold onto the table,
Take the paper,
Put it straight down,
Next grab the pen,
Finally I was ready.

…but then I realised to my dismay,
I had quite forgotten the earlier thoughts of that day.