The day after Christmas and all through each room

remnants of packages awaiting the broom.

The children are crying from their sugar high.

Sugar plum visions have long said bye-bye.

Dad in his kerchief and me in my wrap

can hardly wait for an afternoon nap.

When what to our bloodshot eyes do appear?

Grandma and Grandpa looking for beer.

We join them in toasting surviving this year!