2002I had come up with an idea that gave a twist to our usual poem. I decided to tell about a night where everything seemed to conspire to keep me from sleeping. There would be a noise. I would quiet it. Then soon after, there would be another. The twist comes with the final noise which is the clatter of hoofs on the roof. This is the point where most of the poems start, but this is where this one ends.
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T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. All the stockings were hung by the fireplace with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The wife and I had long since retired, A good night’s sleep was what I desired. One dog and one cat slept quietly on our bed, The other dog in the foyer, paw over her head. My wife, she slept soundly, and peacefully it seemed, The dog slept with her toys, chasing the cat in her dream. And to dreamland it seemed, I could not make that trip, I heard a noise down the hall, a steady drip, drip, drip. Quietly I arose, trying to not make a fuss, Stubbed my toe on the bed and tried not to cuss. I put on my robe and went down the hall, Gracefully leapt over the dog so I wouldn't fall. I landed on a squeaky toy, and woke up the dog Everyone else slept on like a log Now in the kitchen I saw what was the matter, The faucet was dripping, going pitter-patter. I tightened the knob and the flow finally stopped, Then went back to bed into which I then flopped. But sleep did not come, this was such a chore, As I stared at the ceiling, someone started to snore. I listened intently for which direction it came, I realized it was the dog, so I called her by name. It just wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t nice. I counted sheep once, I counted them twice. Two thousand and twenty jumped over the fence. My wooly detractors kept coming on hence. On REM Sleep, on Daydream, on Siesta on Nap, On Sandman on Runner, on Logan on Trap (Oops, wrong story), I counted old movies, and beer on the wall, Nothing would work, nothing at all. I counted old novels. I counted old songs. I hummed a few bars, the dog sang along. I tried everything I could think of that night, Nothing would work, nothing was right. I was finally drifting, I was starting to doze, Then came a noise from outside, and the dog's head arose. The wind had come up, and the chimes were a tinkling, Why couldn't it be quiet? I had not an inkling. The noise that they made, to my goal was distracting, I really didn't think I was over reacting. I headed outside to cut them all down. Then the sprinklers came on and I thought I would drown. I know not the purpose of the master plan, But it was not created by mouse or by man. As I heard a sound that came again from the sink, I came out of my doze and started to think. I lay there wondering what's making that sound, I rose again out of bed my feet finding the ground. When I got to the kitchen, I saw it was the cat, She was batting at a plant, going this way and that. I said 'knock it off, now's time for bed'. She listened as usual, by turning her head. So, back off to bed as I was falling asleep, I'd rather snooze laying down than standing on my feet. As I started to nod off to dreamland I heard, Yet another sound as the dog and cat stirred. So while I was awake, I wanted to say That I hope the holidays all go your way. If I am dozing when you happen to call, Have a very Merry Christmas to one and to all. Now could I finally sleep, or would something else go wrong? Would I be up all night? Would it take very long? And as I was waiting, and looking for proof. There came this darned clattering sound from the roof. |
Copyright
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2002 by Brian and Shirley Dean
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