I seem to have dropped my tambourine.
under the sofa it rolled,
where it can't be seen.
So there it lies away from my eyes.
and I do not want to go there.
who know what sort of thing
has it's lair.
If I stooped down and looked under,
what would there be,
I wonder.
So, best the tambourine
is for now left.
Because, I am not bereft.
I will just wait for the thing,
My music to return.
By then, I will have found a rhyme.
It will be a better time.
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It's not Browning. But, I think it's fun.
Original Poem by: CGZ
Copyright:April-2009
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