Someone has left a microwave on our kitchen floor, rather than find out who had left it there, I instead wrote a poem about it. Do not be disappointed after reading it, I really didn’t mean to write it at all.
Oh microwave upon the floor
Who guards the sink-side cupboard door,
Why do you sit so neat and proud
Within your torn-up-package shroud?
What heart have you to bear such zeal
For such a piece of molded steel;
What triumphs do you long to suit
To pride amongst your cardboard loot.
Oh microwave, who put you there?
Who gave you such a box to wear?
You are so small.. and upside down,
But do you dream a golden crown?
Do you think of some great throne,
Of places you could call your own?
Do you dream of kingdoms high,
And one true name that rules the sky?
‘Oh Microwave!’ you wish they’d cheer,
With beaming grin from ear to ear,
And with a better voice than ours
You’d love and hate with all your powers:
Not sixty watts, but sixty gems;
With rubies scattered at your hems,
Your gown of silver, not of card,
And actions named by bard and bard!
Oh Microwave, how well I see,
You’re just a dreaming whim like me;
So keep your kingdom, dream some more,
You ruler of the kitchen floor.
Until next time, dear reader,