T’was the week after Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, almost comatose.
Months of buying and planning had come to an end, the party is over, and it’s now time to mend.
Piles of boxes and papers to recycling must go, a box from the second floor with shout, look out below.
The children stopped playing with new toys on day two, mom and dad still trapped with them and nothing to do.
The late cold and the snow shouldn’t happen this way, colored lights on the gutters might just stay up till May.
Empty stockings still hung by the chimney with care, lets take them down, no, maybe next year.
A sweater from aunt Martha and a vase from Uncle Nick, an exchange trip to Walmart should take care of things quick.
As mom sips her wine and dad drinks his beers, is it time to start planning the next party New Years?
As the normal finally returns after the Holiday respite, God can just wonder why we never get it right.
