Bad Hair Day

A muddled jumble gath’ring dust
And cobweb littered spaces.
A storage place of scattered things,
And half remembered faces.

A million facts or maybe less*,
But filed in random nooks.
Memories and words galore,
Most gleaned from many books.  

They hit the page in order
Well, usually more or less!
It sometimes even makes some sense;
Not always, I confess.

Is it just an ageing thing,
My mind is such a mess?
Just penning these few paltry lines
Has caused me so much stress!

*(fewer, but poetic licence rules OK)

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