I’m trying to solve the mystery
Of what my parents got for me.
My birthday’s coming up next week—
I’ve GOT to have a present-peek!
I wait until they’re in the kitchen,
Shush my sister—no fair snitchin’—
Sneak as slowly as a snail,
And try to track the present-trail.
I find some wrapping paper scraps
Beside the chair where Grandpa naps.
The words, spelled out in bursts of blue,
Say “appy Birthda”—what a clue!
And soon I find a piece of tape
That leads me back behind the drape.
But sadly, I find nothing there.
Just ribbon—curling, not for hair.
The present must have been here once,
But I can’t find it—what a dunce!
The trail cuts off behind the curtain.
What’s my gift? I can’t be certain!
I’ll just have to wait for it.
I hope it’s a Detective Kit!