When Your Wine Cellar Becomes a Bomb Shelter
QueÌ dorwnage, no more
frornage; our champagne flutes
are dry, for we drank
the champagne when the water
failed, and the light paÌes now
as the dust drifts in,
for the French doors’ gÌass
is smashed and gone,
the veranda’s a crater,
and just today,
thouph it hurts to say,
the puppy— we ate her —
we Were out Of pâté.
Did you enjoy the the artible “A Doggerel” from Eleanor Wilner on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
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