As I walk along the beach,

I gather things left behind—

A sandal, a towel, some sunglasses,

Are things I sometimes find.

But today as I walked in the sand

Of Waimea Bay,

I found something quite unique

That made for an interesting day.

Lying there in the sand,

Looking quite sunburned and red,

No body around, attached to a hat—

Someone had misplaced their head.

"Good day," said I as I passed by.

The head gave a nod and a frown.

Should I pick it up or leave it be?

What if it never gets found?

It might look good on my mantel.

It might feel at home in my shed.

Would it be happy or would it be sad

If I left it all day on my bed?

But I just kept on walking.

In its eyes, I could see the dread.

How sad and lonely it must feel

To be a misplaced head.