Kvass
A tea totaler was she, until her first glass of Kvass.
Beer, Eastern European rye, did her in to her chagrin.
A prim kickie-wickie to a gentleman of high class,
Her perfect manners quickly slipped into a woozy grin.
Brown floating eyes and disconnected speech,
Kvass began to take its mark upon her pretty face.
Telling tales of kraken and a kelt clad munch-kin race.
“Fill her glass! Tell us more.” One kern loudly beseeched.
A bright red flush rushed through her cheeks.
Her imagination brazen., continuing, she told this tale;
“The Loch Ness monster with a leprechaun," she screeched.
Riding white waves on the kraken’s neck…” (A victim of the ale.)
“Playing his pocket violin was that kyphorrhinos elf...”
Suddenly, very quiet, she mumbled something to herself.
“Cheers to all!” Their laughter roared; much to her vexation.
Folks enjoyed kvass that night and one kickie-wickie’s imagination.
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010
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