The war had ended, the boys were home.
New housing had not yet flourished.
Biff and Ellen were going to be married
They had to find a place not too boorish.


A honeymoon for them was out of the question
Every cent would be needed from their mutual collection.


Windowless, echoing, linoleum halls, led from an ugly-papered kitchen with a bed in it
To a community bathroom for the four apartment tenants.


A dark oak carved Murphy bed - pulled down from wall.
Biff and Ellen paid the landlady for one month with their all.


There was a small square cheap wood table with two spindly chairs
A very old ice box and stove completed the fare.


The ice man delivered a block of ice every day,
and the stove had a rusted bottom through which a mouse could play.


Every morning when Ellen went to make breakfast toast,
That little mouse looked up at her with a boast.


She would scream for Biff who would get the broom handle,
But he never could catch him even throwing his sandal.


The bathroom down the hall was not always free,
So crossed legs were plentiful in this place, you see.


The ice box would leak tho it had a pan,
And and sometimes would drip down onto the landlady's can.


She entertained herself standing on the stairs to listen,
The sound of the newlyweds made her eyes glisten.


Oh Biff and Ellen would have wished for their kitchen
Plastic spoons and forks - a brand new invention.


But they had to cook in iron frying pans,
And froze with the cold that blew in through the winds.


When the clock struck about 9, they pulled down old Murphy,
And giggled the night through
under quilts and were comfy.


Much has happend from then 'til now.
Central heat and air and gourmet chow.


However, it doesn't hurt to reminisce,
And try to appreciate all of this.







~ Dreamer (twi1ite@sbglobal.net) ~

© June 22, 2003



Writers' Corner Index