Mislaid

Could you get up? If you don’t mind.

I’ve left my behind behind.

I think it was there, yes, on your chair,

Where I last saw my backside, my poor derriere.

I’ve whistled and shouted and called to it ‘Bum!

Get over here!’ but it still hasn’t come.

It’s really quite awkward, it’s really most rotten

To find that you’ve somehow forgotten your bottom.

My trousers feel empty, my pants feel each draught

(Did someone just snigger? Who was it who laughed?)

So could you get up? If you don’t mind.

I’ve left my behind behind.

 

 

 

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