2001One of the things that happens each year is that around Thanksgiving, I start to wonder what we'll use as a basis for our Christmas poem(s). All too often, the right spark doesn't come along until a week before Christmas (if then). Although I had flushed out the time travel poem, a few lines of this started to come through. Using them as a springboard, we came up with this one.
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T’was three weeks before Christmas, I had run out of time. If only I could come up with a few measly rhymes. Each year it gets harder and the time it gets later, To determine the tastes to whom I will cater. Should I talk about a future that is filled with strife? Or should I just tell you of an easier life? Maybe I could talk politics, this party or that, (Most of my family’d rather I ate my hat). Maybe I’ll talk space, and the final frontier. No wait, didn’t I do that, in fact, just last year? I could write of TV shows that live evermore, But I did that one too, just the year before. How about predictions and things still to come? Maybe I could have a short bit of fun. But they wouldn’t come true, folks would be disappointed. Especially since all of my thoughts are disjointed. What can I write on, what can I do? What color is it, maybe red, white, or chartreuse? I need an idea that will get up and go. So once it is started, it really will flow. Could this just be a case of writer’s block? I scratched my head and looked at the clock. It was now three hours later than it was before. What could I think of to type some more? How ‘bout a story of a Florida winter? But "That’s just passé" came out on the printer. I know a story of Santa at the beach. But thankfully that one is well out of reach. I could tell a good story of our favorite Jedi. But that plot has left me way high and dry. Though I’m hoping it will return, at a better time of day. It could be forever lost in a galaxy far, far away. What could I do, what haven’t we seen? Maybe some eloquence. Now that would be keen. I need to find something to leave them all dazzled. But right now my brain is just overly frazzled. I closed my eyes to take a second’s rest. I figured this was time that I could invest. I opened them shortly with quite a start. I felt of my wrist, for the beat of my heart. I awoke to a noise that came from the roof. It sounded like it came from more than one hoof. I looked at our tree, something set it aglow. It was the presents underneath, even one with a bow. I looked at the clock, now in calendar mode. I couldn’t believe what to my eyes it showed. I’d slept three weeks straight, it was now Christmas day. Our cards never got sent, oh well, what the hey. The noise on the roof stopped, as something flew away. It was deer, pulling a man, riding in a sleigh. I heard him exclaim as the window opened in time, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good rhyme. |
Copyright
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2001 by Brian and Shirley Dean
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