The Day After Christmas

It’s the day after Christmas and time to undo

All the things that we did in the last week or two;

There’s the watch we gave Emma that wasn’t quite right,

And the slippers for Aunt Molly that felt a bit tight

There were golf balls as usual for dear Uncle Joe;

Can you believe that he didn’t let us know,

That the last time he played he shot a one-fifty-three,

Swore off of the game and broke a club ‘cross his knee?

The puzzle for little Walter and all of its pieces

Scattered through the house by the nephews and nieces

Are, alas, being gathered and placed back in the box,

And so are Baby Buster’s plastic building blocks.

A few wayward wrappings and discarded bows,

Are placed in a trash bag that soon overflows.

I can’t help but wince when I think of the time

I spent wrapping those presents, each one so divine.

I’m scraping the last of the leftovers out

And planning a new year of doing without

Trail mix, and cookies, and brownies, and pies,

Instead, I’ll be walking to get a burn in my thighs.

It’s amazing how much time was spent in preparation

All leading, of course, to that moment of elation

When you opened the box, shaped just like you hoped

And lying inside found what you wanted . . . er, nope!

I’m sure when I hinted I emphasized red

So why did he buy me a blue one instead?

It really doesn’t matter, I’ll just take it back.;

I’m hoping the receipt is still in the sack.

I vacuum more glitter and dismantle the tree

I’m returning to work soon . . . and that’s OK by me.