When the scissors come home to roost

Have you ever found yourself without any scissors? Do you resort to buying more rather than searching where they may be? I recently have been doing some organizing and am suddenly inundated with scissors of days gone past. I was raised with the adage “A place for everything and everything in its place” and am still trying to instill that in the kids. They know that the scissors belong in the knife block on the kitchen counter but rarely take the time to put them there. Now my knife block holds more scissors than knives which is the reason for my latest poem.

 

When the scissors come home to roost

There’ll be nary a scrap to snip

Sunday papers will line the bird cages

Not even one coupon you’ll clip

 

The first time they went away

You wailed “No fair!” while throwing a fit

As of late you favor origami

Over the likes of scherenschnitte

 

When the scissors come home to roost

The kitchen will become a salon

The grim allusion to locks like Rapunzel

Will return to a time once upon

 

Following their disappearance

And a disposition to a solitary stray thread

You sprung out from being strung out

and simply resorted to your teeth instead

 

When the scissors come home to roost

They’ll call to the paper and rock

“It’s time for some hand to hand combat,

And it’s not going to be a cakewalk”

 

If they ever come home to roost

The first thing you’ll cut is a rug

It’s a shame those scissors are so pointy

For you might want to give them a hug