A poem, a poem: however far I roam,
my heart is still inclined to home --
but don't you worry, I'm in no hurry,
this buying of knives is far more than a flurry!
I'm glad to fly off, and I'm glad to fly back.
It's only the money to rush off again that I lack!
My blades are never vicious and my friends are never knaves,
our hobby is of works of art, from beauty we will never part,
I fear the poets are the ones whose work it is that no one craves.
* ****** **** ****** *
When we go to knife shows
we don't go alone
and when we get there
who do we see
but other knife knuts far from home
We spend as much time
as looking at the knives
and if we buy that's only one
of many reasons for the ride