Though I still haven’t the gift of writing good poetry I am stubbornly resorting to my intermittent tradition of a rhyming blog post to describe some of the gifts I did receive Christmas morning.
* * *
Early Christmas morning I was jolted from my sleep;
When into my parkade I heard something trying to creep.
I opened my bleary eyes and what I saw gave me pause;
It wasn’t a mouse that was stirring but a facsimile Santa Claus!
Momentarily Santa and the homeless guy—each the other surveyed;
I from inside my sleeping bag and he from the far end of the parkade.
Then with a hearty “Ho! Ho! Ho!”—or words to that effect;
The jolly figure in red dropped a full garbage bag and left.
Shaking my head and putting on socks I approached the bag with care—
There was no telling what kind of stuff there might be in there!
Had it been returnable pop cans I would not have been miffed;
But what I saw instead was a wrapped Christmas gift.
And looking under the first I saw another and another;
Presents both big and small—one on top the tuther.
Wrapping paper flew about the parkade without care;
And soon the faux Santa’s gifts were all laid bare.
There were toasty socks and a toque—both black;
A big blanket, some tarps and sultana bisquits for a snack.
Finally chemical warmers to keep hands from feeling like ice;
And a London Drugs gift card for $20 in merchandise!
This last little present—wrapped all in red—had me exclaim;
It was addressed to me personally—by my first name!
Once I digested this fact and got over my surprise;
I set about sorting and divvying the supplies.
I carefully packed up the socks, toque and sultanas, to keep in my care;
But the blanket, tarps and handwarmers I set aside to share.
Then clutching the gift card I went back to sleep in my “bed”—
Visions of $20-worth of new earbuds dancing in my head.
Little did I dream that 12 hours later (and with Xmas provender);
I would see Santa again but this time with a whole different gender!
* * *
To be continued—mercifully in prose.