BEFUDDLED
Some morning you awake and your brain is all befuddled,
Try to get organized, arrange things, but you get all muddled,
You have to stop and think what day it is, what you have to do,
When it starts off like that you hope it won’t last all day through.

Words and phrases are a jumbled-up mess, stop to spell each word,
On days that start that way, the things you write may seem absurd.
When our dear daughter phoned to say her usual bright, cheery hello,
All thoughts of her lovely name from my mind did completely go.

At last I realized it was Friday and the shopping needed to be done,
I could not think of anything I needed, no groceries, not even one.
I looked through the cupboards I found a needed item or two,
I had to write them down or my shopping I would not get through.

I began to tidy and clean and I did the same things over again,
Mind you the kitchen was sparkling, cleaning done, quite plain.
I had washed the floor and the counters down at least twice,
Maybe being brain dead for a little while can be quite nice.

As you can tell this poetry it is not quite my normal style,
And I hope I may return to being normal in a little while,
But when you have a long attack of muddle headedness,
When I am alright again all my lucky stars I will bless.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 11 June 2004
2003/3917/muddle/trials