The Bread Knife

A poem by my dear 12 year old niece, Eden.

The Bread Knife

A bread knife I was,

A bread knife I am.

I sat there on the shelf,

Of the Winchester’s store.

*   *   *

A man walked in,

One fine day.

He took me, and made me,

Cut all the bread.

*   *   *

I cut hard bread and soft bread.

Fresh bread and stale bread.

Wheat bread and flour bread,

Until one day I could cut,

No more bread.

*   *   *

He tried to sharpen me,

But I could not be sharpened.

He tried to shape me,

But I could not be shaped.

*   *   *

He hadn’t taken care of me,

He had to throw me away.

*   *   *

A bread knife I was,

A bread knife I no longer am.

*   *   *

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4 thoughts on “The Bread Knife

  1. Possibly ur (litte?) nephew must hv jus had a bread knife in mid when he penne dthese words! But doesnt tht last 4 lines hv so much of meaning… true in so many other scenarios of lif rt?

    • Hi Meena, I agree that the last part is deep & true of many situations in life. This was penned by my niece, who at 12 is pretty talented I must admit 🙂

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