Clue


What is in the envelope?
Was it Mr. Green in the study with the rope?
Or was it Miss Scarlet with the wrench in the hall?
Colonel Mustard is in the lounge, standing wide and tall.

One room, one weapon, one suspect.
It wasn’t Professor Plum, I already double checked.
The grand mansion on the game board appears gigantic and cold;
It has nine rooms, and a basement that looks old.

Miss Peacock did it with the dagger, she won’t go free;
Her piece looks as guilty as can be.
“It was Miss Peacock!” I claim,
But I get shown her card, so I know she’s not to blame.

Laughter dances through the air;
It is music for the soul, and there’s plenty to share.
I roll the dice, and move two spaces to the right.
It’s when I enter the Library I know it was Mrs. White.

The cards are scattered here and there;
It looks like a hurricane hit everywhere.
I open the envelope; it’s the end of the game.
It’s Mrs. White! She’s always the one to blame.

It was our third and final game of the day,
We clean up the cards, and put the game away.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem