‘Tis the week before Christmas and all through my home
I am searching each closet with a fine-toothed comb
snagged the day after Christmas and sales in July.
The prices were slashed, and the gift seemed ideal
I actually thought that a few were a steal!
I bought them and wrapped them and stashed them away
Leaning far into corners, dust bunnies I see,
but not any presents for under the tree.
Peering in cubbies and shelves for the loot,
perhaps it is time to give up this pursuit.
My knees are protesting, my back grumping loudly,
my visions disperse of offering proudly
the treasures so perfect, that showed how I cared;
they’re lost in the black-hole of over-prepared.
But wait, in the corner, a shiny red box
I look at the sticky applied: “Rich’s socks”.
“Eureka!” I shout, “I have found one, hooray!”
And eagerly dig through to find what I may.
Way in the back, I must stretch, space is tight,
I find another and smile with delight.
“Onesies for Tommy”; I frown in dismay
For Tommy turned ten just last Saturday.
With a sigh, I abandon my futile gift quest
And to Christmas Future relinquish the rest.
Off on a shopping spree I know I must go
To look for the gifts that truly will show
my love for my family, my friends and my kin
I’ll wrap them and tie bows and hide them again.
But you’ll hear me exclaim as I drive to the mall
"Merry Christmas, please know that I love you all!"