You’d think my favorite,
Would be the time of screams,
The time of skeletons,
And very bad dreams.
But, no,
This horror story weaver,
Is a Christmas lover,
A merry believer.
From the songs,
To the shops,
To the days where feet hurt so much there’s a chance someone might drop,
I love the carol pop,
As speakers overhead spew forth too few songs.
Stressful as all,
It is for every soul,
But there’s a magic to Christmas morning—
And really all that comes before,
That I can’t help being swept into,
Faster than a stream,
And faster than any bygone theme,
The idea of a holiday, somehow,
Pervasively so,
Invades me,
Down to me.
All of me.
Halloween may be when my job shines,
And on Thanksgiving,
The food spills forth—
But a mistletoe, a tree, a glimmering light line,
Those are memories that I want forever.
—
Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd.
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Want to read something longer by me? How about a whole novel!