Thingamajig Poem by Elsie King

The Thingamajig

“Where’s the thingamajig?”

I cry in despair,

I rummage in drawers,

Look under the chair.

“What, the TV remote?”

The hubby suggests,

“No, I’ve found that,

On that old wooden chest.”

It’s essential, it’s needed,

My heart races,

I search through cupboards

And dusty obscure places.

But what’s it called?

I just can’t remember,

The thingamajig, thingy,

I had it last December.

Hubby sighs and shrugs,

“Well, I’ve no idea.

You’ll manage without it.

Your innovative my dear.”

And just when I give up,

Well, stone the crows.

There it is, the stapler,

Right under my nose.

On my desk!

Feature Picture provided by Elsie King