Thinking

They call it stream of consciousness, but mine’s more like a bog.
A clear mind is a cloudless sky, but mine is thick with fog.
If thinking were an orchestra then mine would make a din.
Where other people pan for gold, my brain is smelting tin.
But somewhere in my melting pot, I know I’ll find a glimmer–
The answer to the question that I’m asking: “What’s for dinner?”

[28/12/18]

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