Escape From The Salad Bowl Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

When the little salad onion
saw the knife of stainless steel,
she forgot her crippling bunion
which would have to wait to heal
later when the danger's gone.
So the little onion fled
from the table down and on
to the dachshund's fluffy bed.

Down the stairs, onto the street,
stranded in the dirty gutter,
staring into sure defeat
together with the utter clutter.

Came a gust of winter weather,
brought more stuff into the curb.
One of them, a great big feather.
Thought the onion, 'Ill disturb
this dilemma for my sake.'

At that moment the street sweeper
came, and -with her life at stake-
quickly prayed to God, her keeper
where her prayer then was heard.

Southern winds can be uplifting,
go and ask a passing bird,
one of those, now coming, shifting
some heavy things around the town.

Picked up both stowaway and feather,
the onion mumbled 'Up, not down',
it was a godsent, this foul weather.
And that is how, from any salad
an onion can escape my friend.
If you enjoyed this truthful ballad
you've read to here, which is the end.