Brauts. No Kraut.

The end was near.  The sun was cold

Your mind is clear.  Your intentions bold.

3 bottles of Shiraz should do just the trick

I am vain.  I am fickle.

I am a candle without its wick.

Lines have been drawn.  Spells have been cast.

Mulligans in life, wouldn’t they be a blast.

Judgements now rendered.  Regrets yet known.

The smell on her pillow was something to clone.

In fear we wither.  In jest we sprout.

Who eats their brats without any kraut?

Who eats their brats without any kraut?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s