Missing Persons Poem by Robert Winthrop

"I missed you, Dear, " said Mr. Jones
When wifey got back home.
She'd come back one day early
From a two-week stay in Rome.

Then off he rushed to meet his friend
To play a game of gin.
When Mrs. Jones looked 'round the place,
She saw a house of sin

The dishes piled high in the sink.
The beer cans here and there.
The lipstick on his best white shirt,
Pajamas on the stair.

An earring in the bathroom that
She knew was never hers.
And charges on their MasterCard
For dinners and for furs.

A perfume smell rose from the bed
That they had shared for years.
A smell unknown to Mrs. Jones
That brought her close to tears.

And then her shoulders straightened up;
A thought raced through her head..
She opened up the night-stand drawer,
"Ah! there it is, " she said.

When Mr. Jones at last came home,
She met him in the den.
"I missed you, Dear, " said Mrs. Jones
And fired the gun again.