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Monday, December 17, 2012


While going frantically through the house, I wrote a poem -- it ain't much, but you get the drift:

When a Cigar is Just a Cigar

...the gossips are yammering
over the affair, the insider
trading, the teenager sent
away, the many

elephants in the room
ignored by polite company
(except when whispers
surface with sideway
glances, raised eyebrows...)

But I do mean what I say:

"My elephant really is missing--
 wherefore, art thou, Moi Love!"

I shall keep keep ransacking through the house until I find 

And for a wonderful post about Eames' Elephants, go HERE!

[Prov.: A Jonathan Adler store (I think) in San Francisco.  Originally bought as a birthday present for the Hubby...]

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