NaPoWriMo Day Fourteen: A Pun, My Soul

Several times a day I make my husband groan

Now that one’s not a euphemism, though it could be, I own…

But he despairs of my wit, or my attempt at it

The egg-cessive ingredients in the omelette

Working it out with a pencil (he was on the loo)

What a clean cut, when the soap snaps in half,

The Claret-ty of the wine

“You Plum”, he says

“More berries, really,” I quip

And remind him that divorce is expensive.

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