I Write Poetry

A Roaming Gnome

A gnome went for a walk one day
Along the garden path
He saw another standing guard
Next to the new birdbath

Being a sweet and friendly sort
He stopped to pass the time
The other said no single word
Are there such as gnomish mimes?

Our hero frowned, but passed him by
For rudeness he had felt
He spied another down the path
Who's smile seemed so heartfelt

But this one too rebuffed our friend
And spoke no single thought
Our hero tipped his hat and left
For kindness he'd been taught

Yet when a third just would not speak
And a fourth and fifth were mute
Our gnome took stock of breath and pits
Their silence did not compute

The friendly gnome just hurried off
With a teardrop in his eye
They might not ever speak to him
But they would not see him cry

So large folk, stop and give a thought
No one should feel this slighted
Ceramic gnomes are oh so cute
But the real ones are nearsighted