December 26, 2015
‘Tis the night after Christmas
and all through my hut
the creatures are pacing
the day-after strut.
The stockings are flat on the floor with the crumbs
of chocolate smeared by sticky thumbs.
The children are wired on goodies and sweets
they’re turning green from too many treats.
I, in my kerchief, just want a good nap,
but someone must clean up this crap.
When the mess is all swept away to the bin
Then maybe I’ll close my eyes for a min.
Ah, who am I kidding. There’s dishes to wash
And a mountain of empty boxes to squash.
There’s muddy gray snow on the floor
And new winter boots still sitting there.
My wondering eyes are red and sore
Remembering the early morn before
With the pitter patter of little toes
Come to wake me ere daylight grows.
They were lively and quick
as the tore into the pile left by St. Nick.
More rapid than bullets they ripped open boxes
Like two rabid little foxes.
-Bicycles! Craft kits!
– Legos and Fashion dolls!
– Candy canes! Cheap toys!
– Games and new balls!
And they wail for more presents
those greedy little malcontents!
“We’re bored,” they say with a whine
That classic day-after line.