Poem: Christmas Time Is Best Time

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 GerkinCollin PearmanDylan AlexanderJerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd. 

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