The Midnight Skaters

It is midnight in the ice rink

And all is cool and still.

Darkness seems to hold its breath

Nothing moves, until

Out of the kitchen, one by one,

The cutlery comes creeping,

Quiet as mice to the brink of the ice

While all the world is sleeping.

Then suddenly, a serving spoon

Switches on the light,

And the silver swoops upon the ice

Screaming with delight.

The knives are high-speed skaters

Round and round they race,

Blades hissing, sissing,

Whizzing at a dizzy pace.

Forks twirl like dancers

Pirouetting on the spot.

Teaspoons (who take no chances)

Hold hands and giggle a lot.

All night long the fun goes on

Until the sun, their friend,

Gives the warning signal

That all good things must end.

So they slink back to the darkness

Of the kitchen cutlery drawer

And steel themselves to wait

Until it’s time to skate once more.

At eight the canteen ladies

Breeze in as good as gold

To lay the tables and wonder

Why the cutlery is so cold.