Not A Clue

They all hold hands

The foursome all,

There is Summer

And Winter 

And Spring

And then Fall.

No! Wait a second,

That is not right, Not a thing!

Now I'm quite sure it's Winter 

then Summer then Fall

And then Spring.

Oh my! Now I'm afraid

I've forgotten what order they'er in!

My what a pickle!

I mean a cucumber.

I suppose all that is left to do 

is to sleep a good slumber.

I meant slumber a sleep.

Then I might just remember

The days of the week.

They were what they was.

I mean was what they were,

Now what was I saying?

I am not sure...

Now don't ask me the purpose 

of this poem, mind you,

for I cannot remember why

I wrote it...   Not a clue!