The Day After Christmas

Every year. Every.Single.Year. Have a good laugh to spice up the post-Christmas clean-up!

the liminal life of m

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…

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About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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