Wet Road Glimmer

The sky pulled down, heavy and bruised,

a memory in my head confused.

That specific shape, so grand,

a word I couldn't command.

It floated just behind my sight,

a name, a sound, a sudden light

that wouldn't spark. For days it clung,

a silent bell, never quite rung.

An ache just here, behind my eyes,

a ghost of knowledge, caught by lies

of hurried thought. The wet road gleamed,

and still the word, it only dreamed

of surfacing. The weather changed,

my brain felt slightly rearranged.