In the shadows of the late afternoon sun,
I paced and moved books from one surface
to the next, hoping to jar some memory
from its fixed place in the ether.
Perhaps, and only if it wants to,
it might come out and play a while.
Distracted, I focus on the frayed ends
of the drapery and wonder how long
it’s been in such a state and has my
mother seen this, which would be very bad.
My eyes dart around the room, looking for it
again, the elusive answer teasing
me from afar and holding up my
progress until I pay it close attention.
Amused by the power it holds upon me,
it playfully stepped out from behind
the potted African Violet, (the one
desperately needing water), and
sat in the sun openly mocking me.
I pounced upon it and put us both out of my misery.