Under the Mistletoe

                                                                         

                                      Sitting under the mistletoe

                                      (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
                                      One last candle burning low,
                                      All the sleepy dancers gone,
                                      Just one candle burning on,
                                      Shadows lurking everywhere:
                                      Some one came, and kissed me there.

                                      Tired I was; my head would go
                                      Nodding under the mistletoe
                                      (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
                                      No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
                                      Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
                                      Stooped in the still and shadowy air
                                      Lips unseen - and kissed me there.
                                                         Mistletoe by Walter de la Mare (1913)       
                                                        

Oh, for the good old days

when people would stop Christmas shopping

when they ran out of money.

                            Cheap White Plastic Lawn Chairs

                            We mostly sat outside in the summer

                            in those cheap white plastic lawn chairs
                            from the neighborhood Safeway Store...
                            the ones that only cost a few bucks.

                            We talked about all the past memories
                            that were packed into our lives,
                            well...
                            I talked about all the past memories
                            that were packed into our lives.

                            About that one Christmas
                            when brother and I were still little tykes,
                            when the stockings still hung
                            by that fake chimney with care,
                            good grief...
                            such a long, long time ago.                            

                            That Christmas, when mom and dad
                            covertly spent most of their evening
                            and some of the next morning,
                            putting two unwilling bicycles together
                            as surprises from Santa Claus.

                            I couldn't believe...this many years gone past,
                            the supreme disappointment they expressed 
                            that my brother and I,
                            sneaking a peek that Christmas eve,
                            already knew who Santa really was.

                            I felt like they still believed
                            in the magic of that jolly old man.
                            I burst their vision of that cherished memory,
                            KABOOM!
                            I felt a slight regret.

                            Alright already...
                            I felt an extreme burden of deep regret
                            letting that cat out of Santa's bag
                            when they were old and grey.

                            I thought about that Easter,
                            when my brother and I stood tippy toed
                            each on the headboards of our beds,
                            stretching our necks,
                            peeking over the window ledge.
                            What!!!...mom was the Easter bunny :(

                            Decided not to talk to them about that one.

                                      Lacey's Dozen

                                      On the twelfth day of Christmas,
                                      My crazed cat sent to me,
                                      Twelve stray toms yowling,
                                      Eleven mice not playing,
                                      Ten fleas a leaping,
                                      Nine mangled garlands,
                                      Eight chewed up buttons,
                                      Seven shredded X-cards,
                                      Six smashed glass baubles,
                                      Fi-i-i-i-ve fresh fur balls...
                                      Four silent birds,
                                      Three plucked hens,
                                      Two wingless doves,
                                      And a tinsel stuck in a butt hole.

Aren't we forgetting

the true meaning of Christmas?

You know,

the birth of Santa.

Bart Simpson

H

A

P

P

Y

H

O

L

I

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A

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S

!

I love Christmas!

No money...no matter,

no gifts...that's life,

no bah humbugs allowed here,

cause I lo-o-o-o-ove Christmas!

The air's alive

with song and happy dance,

friends and good cheer,

no bah humbugs will be here,

cause I lo-o-o-o-ove Christmas!

So put a smile

on that sour puss face,

in my glad space,

No bah humbugs welcomed here,

cause I lo-o-o-o-ove Christmas!