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Trina Birnbaum, z"l
​

Picture
Trina and Ziv
I searched throughout my habitat,
for my lovely maroon hat.
While I did unearth a bat,
a fat
muskrat,
and a gnat--
with whom I did chat--
I could not find my hat.
Drat.
Had it fallen in a vat?
Had it been taken by a bureaucrat?
Or by the brat
who likes to pat 
my cat?
Or by the acrobat
who spat
on a rat?
While I do eat much butterfat,
I get cold and my cravat
is not all that;
along with it I need my hat.
My hat
is not to be worn in combat,
though it might be used as a hemostat.
The autocrat,
the democrat,
the aristocrat,
and the diplomat
all think my hat
is of the proletariat.
Just as I was concluding that
I might never find my hat,
or at least not at
my habitat,
and that my plan I might reformat,
I located my hat
underneath a mat
near the thermostat.
It was in fact quite flat,
though on it I had not sat.
What could have changed its format?
Is this a caveat?
What do you think about that?

​                     -- Trina Birnbaum
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