Not A Clue.

I really do not know what to do,
In fact I have not a clue.
There is something that needs to be done,
Not knowing what it is is certainly no fun.
I wrack my brains hour after hour,
In fact I am beginning to feel sour.
It must be important I have this feeling,
My poor old brain is absolutely reeling.
I gaze around my humble abode,
Asking myself why should I carry this load.
What is it I ask myself again and again?
Am I loosing grip on my poor old brain.
A sudden flash right out of the blue,
I want to write a poem for you.
Yes for you, you are down in the dumps,
Your Doctor has told you that you have the mumps.
My poem I am sure will cheer you up,
If it doesn’t pour your self a drink and have a sup,
This is what I wanted to do,
My poem is finished and I don’t feel so blue.

by Bernard Shaw

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