Oh, thank you dear Elinor.
I’m a vague stranger to you, but I am writing to say that your call changed my life.
The man who had been seated, got up and came over to where I was.
He picked me up, out of obscurity (the tail end of 34th street) and
sent me on a journey.
It was only four doors down, but I went
from being with my own
to being cherished as unique.
I transformed from a couch potato, sitting on a shelf
to finding someone I could sing my tune to.
She picked me up lovingly and whispered sweet nothings to me
as she placed me down in that cold room.
She said not to worry, that she’d come back for me.
So I thought about what I would tell her.
I’d belt out a Broadway tune, I would.
When her manicured paws tugged at me, I knew it was time.
Time to show her what I knew.
So sing I did. My Broadway debut kind of entrance.
the two women started laughing.
I shared in their joy.
Though I did wonder what my friends were doing a few doors down.
Would they find people to love them?
Were they as blissful as I was? I hoped so.
The sound of champagne flutes kissing.
The ladies drank me in. Were impressed by me.
But it didn’t stop there!
They complimented my body, my crispness. They knew me, the real me!
My voyage was cut short, but I know I was loved.
the first bottle of Veuve Cliquot