Ode to Lemon Meringue

My brain quit functioning about two hours ago.
It hiccoughed, sputtered, and wheezed to a rolling stop.
Although I’d love to tell you how it came to be,
I simply can’t until my brain returns from leave.

So let us have a ditty about that mad cow
Who flew over the meringue to Jersey for eggs.
She jumped off the plate, gave a penny for my thoughts
And resolved my head into amorphous oatmeal.

I have resolved with twelve impudent syllables
Each thoughtless line to write. Or perhaps I doodle.
Writing takes thought, but I find none in this warm space.
Word doodles must suffice for cognitive symptoms.

All lullabies stem from a mad cow and meringue.
Sing this one to those monkeys you call your children
They will thank you one day with your own little room
In a geriatric restaurant in Jersey.