The Day Before Santa
by MFrostDelaney

‘Twas the day before Santa
and all through the land
not a human was ready
for the chaos at hand.

The shoppers were frazzled
from last minute buys
in the stores dressed to kill
in their good-cheer disguise.

The children all whined
for more and more toys
while visions of want
increased their greed noise.

And Ma with her plastic
and I ATM’d
were racing to see
how much we could spend.

When out in the mall
the last-minute sale
sucked both of us in
for the holiday grail.

The glitter of tinsel
on make-believe trees
façaded the frenzy
to Yule-shopping ease,

When I can’t believe
what we’ve finally found—
Magic Mixies, and yes,
the last one around.

We had searched high and low
for this season’s hot item,
given up hope
that we ever would sight ‘em,

With the prettiest gift box
still left on the shelf.
Our list was complete,
our show-we-care wealth.

Most happy were we,
our shopping completed,
and just ‘fore our lines
of credit depleted.

Now bicycle, trucks,
now silver, jewels!
On VISA, Discover,
oh, MasterCard rules!

As elves strain to scurry
in the twenty-third hour,
day three sixty-four
with almost no power,

So home did we slump
to wrap all the stuff.
Weary and worn,
we’d had quite enough.

And then in a burst
of energy royal
we rolled out the paper,
the ribbons and foil.

As I located tape
and bright tissue paper,
supplies were complete
for our gift-wrapping caper.

But wait, get the tools,
we’re hammered and pliered
and ready for battle—
assembly required!

We read all instructions,
bent, pushed and screwed,
nutted and bolted,
got all the parts glued.

With all put together
and ready to wrap,
we hermetically sealed
for no peeking mishap.

There were red and green boxes
with speckles of gold,
crimped satin ribbons,
all curlicue-rolled.

The presents were ready
to place ‘round the tree
‘neath boughs drooped with garlands
and popcorn debris.

We put each surprise
in deft disarray,
quickly filled all the stockings,
no time to delay.

And nibbling on cookies
and milk out for Santa,
we flopped on the couch
for some Christmas eve banter.

We finally slumped up
the stairs for the night,
which was practically morn,
sky peeking some light.

Collapse into bed
did I with my wife
to rest tired bones
from Noel-stressing strife,

Barely the strength
to pull up the cover
was left between me
and my Christmas morn lover.

I reached for a cuddle,
alas, all for naught—
kids burst in, and screaming,
Look what Santa brought!



 

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