An ice cube floated in my glass
and flashed with pride its see-through ass..
Its brothers seemed to like the feel
of Sour Mash (Hi, Jack) 's appeal
to prominent and wealthy Feudals
who sat all day constructing doodles;
their lips were chapped and stained pitchblack
and often they would spit you back
into the drink as if they wondered,
and intellectually pondered
about the purpose of plain ice
and whether drink could be a vice.
Its life had started with the hope
that cubes, which rank above sheer dope,
would have a life and ample time
to savour sour drinks with lime
and cherries, salt along the rim
green olives, ready for a swim
but, sadly, in this sorry case
the drinker does deserve no praise,
he paid attention to the dames,
to cards and dice and other games.
Thus all the laws of physics cried
that liquid, solid things abide
by rules that cannot ever see
a challenge from the likes of me.
As ambient temperature declined
from reasonable to unassigned.
our little cube was forced to think
if there is life after you shrink.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-short-life-of-an-ice-cube/
