Friday, December 5, 2008

The Day After Christmas

‘Twas the day after Christmas, when all through the house
I looked everywhere, but couldn’t find my spouse.
The presents from Christmas were strewn everywhere,
With nary an empty space, sofa, or chair

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of techno-toys danced in their heads.
And I in my sweatpants and my hubby no where near,
Ran to the garage to see if his car was here.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I ran to the yard to see what was the matter.
Away to the sidewalk I ran with a dash,
By this time, my face had become as white as an ash.

The sun on the top of the slippery, wet roof
Made me scared, and curious, and no longer aloof.
When what to my wondering eyes would appear,
My husband, was sitting up there, drinking a beer.

In his little old bathrobe, so old and so ratty,
My husband looked cute, but I fear he’d gone batty.
More rapid than eagles, his beer did he drink,
And I whistled and shouted “What will the neighbors think?”
As old wives that before the wild hurricane fly,
When we meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
So up to the house-top I dashed in a hurry.
To sit by my husband and share in his worry.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard the whole tale:
He’d spent all our money on Christmas stuff on sale.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Up the ladder came the kids, still in their nightgowns.

Their hair was all messy, their faces still wrinkled,
Their slippers were red and had sleigh bells that tinkled.
“What’s happening, what’s wrong?” the two asked quite worried.
“We heard a loud noise and then we just hurried.”
Their dad’s eyes, how they watered, his face looked so sad.
His cheeks showed his sorrow; it didn’t look like their dad!
His miserable mouth was drawn down in a frown
And the beard on his chin was grizzled between the brown.
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face, and a little beer belly,
That I say came from too many trips to the deli.
He was sullen and quiet, not at all himself,
And we cried when we saw him in spite of ourselves.
But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.
He spoke to us then, and gave us a smirk.
“I guess I’ve just been the silliest old jerk.”
And laying his finger aside of his brain,
Gave us a nod, and said “I won’t do this again!”

He stood on the roof, to his family gave a cheer,
And together we all hugged thanking God we were here.
But we heard him exclaim, 'ere we climbed down to the yard,
"I’m going to take and cut up every credit card!"

-- Kathryn Atkins