Nothing To Speak Of
Thundering downstairs, my sister charged me with theft;
wondering, Dad questioned the source of her inquiry.
Blundering like a buffoon, at last I confessed,
plundering her coffers, I had filched her diary.
Deft hands suddenly snatched the book in question.
Bereft of my fun, I pulled a downplay,
“Theft is taking and KEEPing something not yours.”
Left with nothing to speak of, I just stole away.
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