Passover Poem: ‘The Lost Matzah’

The Lost Matzah

By ALAN SMASON

I went searching for a piece of matzah last night.

Someone told me it was just so weird.

The matzah was there at the start of the meal,

But right after it had just disappeared.

I went looking both high and low

For that lost piece of unleavened bread.

“If you find it, you’ll get rewarded,”

Was the thing that our host had said.

So, I looked in a drawer in a bureau

To see if I’d find it in there.

But all I could find were some yamurlkas

And on one I could still see some hair.

I closed that drawer so fast that

Others came running for the noise.

“Did you find that lost piece of matzah?”

Was the question from the girls and boys.

“But no!” I answered quite quickly.

“I haven’t seen hide nor hair of it.

Let’s keep looking for this stale little foodstuff

Before someone says we must quit!”

So off I ran into a closet and I went in

And turned on the light.

When what to my eyes did I see

That certainly gave me a fright.

It was a stand-up, photo display

Of the opera singer Maria Callas.

I tell you my friends were it alive

That towards it I might bear some malice.

When I saw that picture of Maria,

I must have let out a shout.

‘Cause then came those kids once again

Wondering what it was about.

“It was nothing,” I told them.  “Keep looking.”

“We must not give up the fight.

I’m sure if we redouble our efforts,

Than that matzah will be in our sight.”

So, off we all went on a hunt

For that missing matzah piece.

The host had invited all his children,

Plus some cousins, a nephew, and a niece.

I looked under dishes in the kitchen

And even went into the pantry.

I looked in the den under videos

Named “True Grit” and “Elmer Gantry.”

But it all came for naught – I was puzzled.

Confounded and unable to speak,

I felt like a dog that was muzzled

In this game of hide and go seek.

Then all at once I was smiling

I’d received inspiration from above.

I had to think like a matzah.

Now what would a matzah most love?

And, sure enough, near the charoses

Was where I found my prize.

The afikoman everyone had called it

Was now split before all our eyes.

And when I demanded my bounty.

The host rolled his eyes in his lids.

“That matzah’s not meant for adults,” he explained.

“That matzah is just meant for kids!”

©2001 Alan Smason