My Knee Is for Me

My Knee is for Me by Kenn Nesbitt

My dad said he needed
to borrow my knee.
He reached out and grabbed it
to take it from me.

I asked him to quit it.
He gave me a grin,
then yanked on my ankle
and tugged on my shin.

I yelled, “Cut it out!”
as he clung to my shoe
and pulled on my foot like
he wanted that too.

He finally stopped when
I started to beg,
then winked and said,
“I was just pulling your leg.”