Something’s awry this Christmas. It’s not like it used to be…
Not like back when I was a kid…and Dad and I felled the tree,
Brought it home in a one-horse sleigh…outfitted it with candles.
Now the tree comes in a kit. It’s even equipped with handles !
We’ll all nestle down on Christmas Eve…each to our own enclaves
And toss another yule log…into our crackling microwaves.
The family used to decorate the tree, then we kids retired
And waited for Santa to arrive. Now?…“Assembly is required !!”
The tree itself, which once was green and looked so darn fantastic,
Is now all sorts of colors…and is not real, but plastic.
The stockings that once were hung…above the chimney with care
Must now be hung atop a duct vent. Our heating is forced air.
I have a feeling it’s Santa’s fault. He’s become a bit too “cool”…
Doing things he shouldn’t be doing. Stuff that ain’t quite yule.
Playing the role of a California dude…surfing in the sun…
When he ought to stay in colder climes…building toys, one by one.
Santa has a contract with us…to bring us holiday cheer…
We ought to get a court to enforce it !…including the reindeer !
Santa sunning himself upon a beach? It certainly gives one pause.
Has anyone read his contract? Maybe there is a sandy clause !
We hark back to childhood Christmases. We had much simpler lives.
But mix up fact and fantasy…confuse reality with Currier & Ives.
As we from our minds…our modern ambience try to rid,
Remember !!! It’s all future nostalgia…..for a year 2011 kid.
The last line is the clincher! Actually, it makes me shudder.
One Christmas, my mom bought a silver foil tree. We kids cared not, as long as the gifts were beneath it. Now I think of it as a monstrosity.
Good poem, and good old days to remember!
For the past two years (2006-2008) The Bridge of Silver Wings has earned a name for itself both as a series of poems published in different e-zines and as a book first published in 2007.
What makes this 2009 edition a special one is th
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A delightful story of a needy family of squirrels who are kicked out of their village, because of their tattered clothes and nests.
Abandoned and in search of friends to accept them, they travel many roads of r
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One Christmas, my mom bought a silver foil tree. We kids cared not, as long as the gifts were beneath it. Now I think of it as a monstrosity.
Good poem, and good old days to remember!
Connie