The Elusive Word

Caught in a fog of forgotten intent,

a phrase on the tip, yet I can’t make it bent.

Days pass like whispers, the word just out of reach,

tangled in dreams like a lesson to teach.

Cold coffee grows bitter, reflecting my plight,

as memories slip through the cracks of the night.

Each dawn brings a search for that phantom of thought,

but it lingers away, all I have left is naught.