I’d lost my favourite knife!
I’d lost my favourite knife,
I had it only then,
just a moment ago;
I want to use it;
but, do I have it? No!
it wasn’t there, and when
I looked, it wasn’t there again!
I looked up high,
I looked down low;
oh, where, oh where,
would my knife go?
I checked under my pillow,
and in the washing machine;
all the unlikeliest places
that my knife it could have been;
and then I found it,
my heart now be at rest;
it was where I’d left it;
in my late husband’s chest.
Oh, Lord! The ending line! Lol. Good one, Graeme!
Yes, trE, the ending line caught me out, too – it seems that the poems sometimes go where they want to go.
Have a great day, trE. G:)
Haha. You do the same. Thank you.