Twas 2 weeks before Christmas
when no creature was stirring inside of our house
not even my spouse.
The Santa's and snowmen were hung on the trees
in hopes Em and James soon would be there.
And me in my jammies and Todd in his chair,
had just settled down hoping sound of snoring would be in the air.
When out in the family room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
The lights from the ceiling gave a luster
to broken objects below,
the tree on the ground,
shattered ornaments around.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
Cycling Santa had survived to to be on the tree another year.
My apologies to the Clement Clarke Moore who wrote the original version in 1822.
Much to my dismay, our tree tumbled off it's perch last night.
Several smashed ornaments, including my beloved hand blown Santa.
We cleaned the wet carpet, wiped water off the floor and went back to bed.
This morning we'll get out the fishing line, tie the tree to the ceiling, vacuum up the
broke ornaments bits
and begin the day with Christmas cookie sugar high.
Ah, the joy of the holidays.
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