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The Bonnet


Daniel W. Kneip

Hung out to dry
In the cold wintry night
Was a mostly peculiar bonnet.
Twas pinned to the line
One of mighty fine twine
With a note stuck surely upon it.
I inched ever closer
Looking both over
My left and right shoulder.
And a smile to my lips came
As the words to my eyes claimed
That of one very great disaster.
In fact I lifted my lamp.
On the line it was clamped.
The bonnet hardly seemed to mind
As I fancied the note
Penned with a stroke
That demanded both hands to unwind.
I am the cap
Of young Miss Knapp
With very ill tidings to tell.
Such a sad mishap.
On the bank she sat.
But into the water she fell.
True my heart raced.
I should make haste
And capture the girl from the sea.
But thinking still deeper
Quite troubling my thinker
Twas something still bothering me.
The note read on:
Im afraid shes long gone
Either deep down with the sinners
Or still nicely afloat
Like a grand sail boat
Proudly primed to be crowned a winner.
To the near shore
I sure strove for.
Pity, not a soul to my rescue.
I traveled some time
Before finding this line.
And here I hang pinned now before you.
I collected my light.
Puzzled all night.
Now how did this cap, this old pink thing
With its bright red bow
>From this fine taut string
Possibly scroll such a sad story?
Haunting me further
As I pass by the river
Tis clearly not Miss Knapps demise.
But the will of a hat
A bonnet, in fact
To bring such a tale to mine eyes!

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