"Retro"

The brain is

a very strange place

A room for each desire

Closets galore

Stuffed with memories

Trinkets of your past.

You try to clean them out

Putting them in order

But...there is no order.

For things happen as they will

No direction, Yet you fill

the shelves to max

And push the closet door

and try to close with force

The bad ones push back

and fall onto the floor.

Oh, there is no order

Unless you pretend

And I can't do that

I too won't bend.

Kes©2009