Messing with my head."

   What is going on, am I really losing the plot.
  
 Yes, I do the occassional "odd" thing, misplace,

 blame others. You know the thing.

 Now the garden is doing it to me, confusing me know end.

  Look over here, I'm dressed for Autumn.

 But just behind me, there is something flowering for Spring.

  The calendar says it's Summer, and my sweaty brow tells me so.

 But Winter has't shown her face, it is still to jolly hot.

 How I yearn for some mist and fog.

 But I get the other lot.