The Attic Of My Mind - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
It's Saturday today, all day.
I have big plans for things long due.
I ask myself, what do you say
to tackling this, just me and you?
I am a hoarder from way back
and keep the dumbest things,
but for the brain to truly track
and plan, so that it sings
it has to have, like toast that's buttered,
the proper tenants, useful ones.
This will not work if it is cluttered
with ancient stuff
and pain re-runs.
So, while I AM deeply attached
to cobwebs of this kind,
they ought to be swiftly despatched
from the attic of my mind.
You see, my motive is ulterior,
my reasoning pretty smart.
My favourite tenant's prized interior
is all of me - not just my heart.
She'll have the run of our castle,
so when I wander I would find
her often without clutter hassle.
I'll clean the attic of my mind.
Comments about The Attic Of My Mind by Herbert Nehrlich
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You