The mystery of the roaming garden gnomes

I CAME out of my door - oh! I beg your pardon,

Who are these in a pot in my garden?

Two little gnomes in a flower pot,

How did they get there? Well, I know not.

They sit on the gatepost - I just glower,

Then one disappears within the hour.

So one sat alone for several days,

‘Til along comes a neighbour all in a daze.

“I just found these in my garden there,

So I’ve brought them to join the little one here”.

Now I’ve got three at my garden gate,

Goodness knows where’s their tiny mate.

I wonder if someone is taking the mick?

Which one of the neighbours shall we pick?

The blame seems to rest on one alone,

Perhaps he’ll own up before too long?

But if he’s not guilty, what’s my next task,

Who can I turn to, who can I ask?

Oh yes, it’s the postman, as he goes on his round,

He’ll look in the gardens, on the grass and the ground.

At houses, where people are wailing and weeping,

And spending long days for their lost gnomes seeking,

Someone may read this, do you think they might?

If they’re yours ring the editor, he’ll pass on the news,

And the gnomes can come home to their previous views.

In the meantime they sit there, rain, hail or shine,

The neighbours are starting to think they are mine.

Three little gnomes who are sad and homeless,

Waiting to find a friend who is gnomeless.

Sylvia Mountford,