The bell tolled
and so I was told
my underwear was under there.
"Under where?"
"Yes," the responder replied.
This, of course,
failed to spell out an appropriate course
for my undies-seeking horse
whose blanket was coarse.
(But who's going to yell about that till they're hoarse?)
And now I know
no way to weigh
the truth of what the speaker spoke:
"They're over there with their parents' grandchildren's parents."
In other words, they are alone with themselves.
To get her together,
it would take the arms (but what's the harm?)
of several occupied octopi.
I would have
if I could have
half that many manly charms.
Even when lucid,
I may lose it
if a child wrests his wrist
and forces me to loose it.
At which point, even a witch would rest...
though a wooden one wouldn't have won.
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