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 yammeringover the affair, the insidertrading, the teenager sentaway, the lay-off...so many
elephants in the roomignored by polite company(except when whisperssurface with sidewayglances, 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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