When you wish to have Champagne
you can be sure that all you find is milk,
but there’s no one else than you to blame
I did not steal the wine, I’m not your ilk.
But sweetie, if you finish cheese and butter
and leave me with your old potatoes,
you can be sure to hear me mutter:
I will eat your salad and tomatoes.
Lillian hosts at dVerse and want us to write poetry about refrigerators, its content etc. Join us.
October 10, 2017