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"'Twas the night before Christmas," Country Wife Blogged,
"These moments of happiness," she thought, "must be logged."
The house overflowed with gifts, food, and more,
as friends and family came through the door.
"Good Grief," said Little Sis, as the table she eyed,
"We'll be eating sausage balls long after we've died."
Pies and cookies; ham and cheese;
Plenty to eat for those hard to please.
Presents piled high under the tree,
Little Sis says, "I hope a few are for me."
Unwrapping begins, and after very few packages,
Chipmunk is bored and off to ran-sack-ages. (shut up...it rhymes...sort of)
Wrapping paper piles litter the floor,
presents cover the room, from door to door.
Little Sis is thrilled with grandparent's doting,
Chipmunk sits on Papa's lap, gloating.
Happiness isn't found under the tree,
Happiness is found in loving family.
Country Wife thinks, "I love Christmas the most,
But next year, I hope, Big Sis will host."
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3 comments:
Very Very clever. Merry Christmas from Melbourne.
And there I was thinking I was the only person who felt the need to write daggy little poems! Nice to see someone else thinks like me. Happy holidays!
Thanks, LyndaD! Merry Christmas!!
Linda, thanks for the comment! Oh, so good to know I'm not alone in my poor attempts at poetry. lol I bet yours are much better!! Merry Christmas!!
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