Eugene S.

Lost Title

The gait of the walk
The look of the face
The sound of the voice
In a familiar place

Your name has escaped
My mind with no trace
Synapses don\'t fire
As I lose my race

To capture that name
And shed my disgrace
Of forgetfulness
And cold empty space

The state of my mind
A chalk board erased
Can you forgive my
Clumsy thoughts misplaced