3 result(s) for Funny Colleague Leaving Poems.
These poems are completely original - not copied from anywhere. Feel free to use them however you want.
The Whiteboard Keeps Its Secrets
They left on Friday, boxes in hand,
But left their mark on the wall we planned:
A spiral cat with a crooked hat,
A stick-figure dance, the wildest of that.
The meeting rooms still hum with talk,
Yet every marker stays in chalk,
And there, beneath the quarterly graph,
Their doodled duck lays down its laugh.
We wiped the board for each new plan,
But couldn't erase the dancing man;
He waves at us through every sprint,
A cartoon ghost with a pen-smudged squint.
So here's to them, our faithful clerk,
Whose ink still lives in the quiet work,
The board remembers, ever bright,
Who drew the sun, and who drew the night.
The Speech That Outlasted the Cake
We gathered round with paper plates,
And sugar frosting, sweet and white,
When Greg stood up to say a word,
And none of us had any sight
Of how the word would stretch and sprawl
Across the better part of hours.
The cake sat slumping, growing stale,
While Greg recalled the office powers.
He thanked the printer, thanked the stapler,
Thanked the coffee, black and thick,
He thanked his wife, his dog, his cousin,
And Marge, who always made us sick.
We nibbled crumbs and checked our watches,
We sipped our punch and blinked our eyes,
The candles burned down to their wicks
As Greg described his retirement skies.
By half past four the frosting cracked,
The forks had all been bent in boredom,
And still he spoke of fishing trips
And every cubicle's old wisdom.
So here's to Greg, who talked us dry,
Who gave us speeches, cake, and gall,
May all his golden years be short
And every one of them as long as all.
Farewell to the Donut Box
Our colleague packs her desk with care,
A cardboard box and a potted plant there.
She waves goodbye with a cheerful grin,
Off to a new job, the adventure begins.
But oh, the donuts, the sugar-glazed delight,
That graced the break room every Friday night,
Will she find such treats across the town?
I fear the pastries will forever drown.
So go, dear friend, and chase your dream,
With a crumb-stained heart and a sweet-tooth gleam.
We'll miss your laugh, your spirit bright,
And every single donut from our Monday fight.
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