My memory’s in jeopardy of growing rather fuzzy.
I can’t remember punch lines like “He wasn’t fuzzy, wuzzy?”
Quips like “Betty Botter bought a bit of bitter butter”
used to fly right off my tongue, but now they sit and flutter.
It’s true my thoughts surround me but they won’t assume an order.
It is as though instead I have become a memory hoarder
with stacks of memories piled up in my halls of memory
where perhaps I could still find them—if I had the energy.
But as is, names aren’t stacked near where my face recall is kept,
so when I meet acquaintances, I’m chillingly inept
at sorting out the names to go with their familiar faces.
This trying to put face with name sure puts me through my paces!
Somehow the very minute I recognize a face,
its name flies out the window, so I hasten up my pace
to scurry ’round the corner before they might see me.
It’s not my heart avoiding them. Just blame my memory!
The only reassurance in all this memory Hell
is that lately I have noticed others scrambling as well,
so perhaps it isn’t only me who’s exercising guile
trying to avoid my friends in the grocery aisle.
Prompts today were memory, jeopardy, surround and fuzzy. Links below: