‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through my home,
Lay Amazon boxes, everywhere that we roam.
My wife is done shopping or so she has said,
I haven’t started, and it fills me with dread.
The children are feverish and coughing and sick,
The infections and virus are spreading real quick.
To ensure the Nice List, the behavior is fake,
On the day after Christmas, the whining will wake.
And mom on the treadmill and I with my weights,
Furrow our brows, at what-the-scale-states.
When down in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
I ran down the stairs to see what’s the matter.
I jump over needles from the fake Christmas tree, (how?)
I step on a Lego and mutter ‘Oh Gee!” (edited for content)
And there wrapped in blankets one nine and one four,
Stand my two boys among the Chrtistmas decor.
The older is drawing a picture with care,
He shows it to Benny, who can’t help but stare.
It’s an artist’s rendition of Santa’s World Tour,
The logic makes sense when your audience is four.
“Is he real?” he asks later, with a tremble and shake,
“Some kids at school say that he’s fake.”
“Look in your heart,” I say without fear,
His body relaxes, but his face is unclear.
“The magic is in you,” I whisper and wink,
He nods and he smiles and you know what I think?
He’ll wake on that morning and jump to the floor,
He’ll see all his presents and I’ll have it…
Owner Spowerks LLC