Ten Minute Warning Poem by fanniesson -

On a ten-minute warning to get out
of my house cause of a fire.

I'd grab my Daughter's urn, a strong box
in the hall closet with important papers
in it, and a wad of hundred-dollar bills,
maybe three thousand dollars, in my only
suit pocket, and of course.
‘L/G' Little Girl, my fifteen-year-old
half-crippled, almost blind dog.

Figure, I could easily be out of the house
in under ten minutes, if.
The wife agrees not to put on makeup
before we go.