The Missing Piece
Buttered toast is all you can cook
You bring me over a slice
I’ve noticed you’ve already had a bite
You have a tendency of doing this
If I held your heart in my hand
Beating away, blood dripping down my hand
It wouldn’t be all there
I don’t need to be a surgeon to work that out
You call me over to see a puzzle you’ve done
It’s of an old ship, all 1,000 pieces
I place a hand on your shoulder
‘There’s only 999 pieces there’
Where the sail is
The little outline of the table shown
You tell me ‘I’m all yours’
But I don’t think that’s true
There’s always a piece missing
I’ve checked everywhere
Even my pockets
I can’t find it.
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