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A Christmas Poem

Well, another year, and what a year it’s been, is about to be swept away by the winds of time, wherever bygone years are blown to. This is my last post before Christmas, I will continue to read the fine works of others, though.

I came up with this little poem this morning, and I hope it makes you smile. I would like to thank all of you for supporting my blog throughout the years and wish all of you Happy Holidays!I hope you find peace and joy; celebrating, or not, in whatever form you choose, and the best you can in this age of restrictions.

‘Twas 4 am, John slid quietly out of bed.

Glory be! Christmas Day, at last! He’d prepped all year!

Timed Christmas lights cued on, as down the stairs he treads.

Tree trimmed to precise cone; sore hands; well worth the cheer.

All seemed right, but then he saw it, and slapped his head.

The wrapped sweater hung like a slug, sloshed on cheap beer.

If she’d used a box; but Claire’s doll now wore a cap to dread.

John frowned; he’d fix Kate’s mistake; but an earful she’d hear.

Two steps, a squeak from the floor; tools were in the shed.

The room spun around; all imperfections were clear.

The mantle garland was unequal at the ends.

He went outside, closed his eyes, and willed the mess to disappear.

A horrible squeak! A rusty bike, rode by that boy named Ted.

Ted waved; John smiled, “Wait right there. I’ve got some oil for that gear.”


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Author, Mark Bierman
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