Elegy for Eggo
The saddest words in Tierra del Fuego are,
“There are no more Eggos(tm).”
On November eighteenth*, or so
Eggo land was flooded, not from snow.
Not even if you got in your Winnebago(tm)
And drove from here to great Ohio
And even stoppoed in far-off Reno,
You’d find no stores with Eggo.
O my! O my! No Eggo! No Eggo!
Not even for those with lumbago.
So dry out soon, o wondrous dough.
Then shall our buttery smiles grow.
* = I wrote this poem some years ago. I don’t remember the year. Poems are hard.
– Paul De Lancey, The Comic Chef, Ph.D.
Check out my latest novel, the hilarious apocalyptic thriller, Do Lutheran Hunks Eat Mushrooms? It’s published by HumorOutcasts and is available in paperback or Kindle on amazon.com