When the little salad onion <br />saw the knife of stainless steel, <br />she forgot her crippling bunion <br />which would have to wait to heal <br />later when the danger's gone. <br />So the little onion fled <br />from the table down and on <br />to the dachshund's fluffy bed. <br /> <br />Down the stairs, onto the street, <br />stranded in the dirty gutter, <br />staring into sure defeat <br />together with the utter clutter. <br /> <br />Came a gust of winter weather, <br />brought more stuff into the curb. <br />One of them, a great big feather. <br />Thought the onion, 'Ill disturb <br />this dilemma for my sake.' <br /> <br />At that moment the street sweeper <br />came, and -with her life at stake- <br />quickly prayed to God, her keeper <br />where her prayer then was heard. <br /> <br />Southern winds can be uplifting, <br />go and ask a passing bird, <br />one of those, now coming, shifting <br />some heavy things around the town. <br /> <br />Picked up both stowaway and feather, <br />the onion mumbled 'Up, not down', <br />it was a godsent, this foul weather. <br />And that is how, from any salad <br />an onion can escape my friend. <br />If you enjoyed this truthful ballad <br />you've read to here, which is the end.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/escape-from-the-salad-bowl/
