Tuesday, December 26, 2006

The Day After Christmas

Pasty wrote me a poem.

The Day After Christmas
In honor of Brian Dunbar

Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house the floor had been cluttered, with papers, twas doused.

The stockings were scattered with disarray in our lair, the candy wrappers thrown on the floor without care.

The children were playing all the games they received, while screaming at monsters and thieves that deceive.

While I in my apron and a trashcan on lap start sweeping and cleaning all the leftover wrap.

When out in their room there arose such a scream, I thought that they must have just had a bad dream!

Away to the bedroom I flew really quick, only to find they'd lost a sword to a stick.

So back to my room to clean the dishevel and make my home safe and bring it back, to some level.

The light on the floor made the packages glitter. It's amazing how lovely sunlight makes litter.

More quickly I went to finish my task, my husband was helping, and I didn't even ask.

More rapid than tigers he swept and he cleaned. I was so happy he had intervened.

In boxes, in paper, and in went the tissue. Quick as lightening he tossed them, how quickly they flew!

He saved all the manuals and tucked them away. He knew what to save, what needed to stay.

From the corner of the living room to the edge of the hall, he worked like a hero to save me from it all.

When he met with an obstacle, he took it with glee. Nothing deterred him, not even me!

With his hands full of boxes of goodies and toys, he dispersed them to rooms and then to our boys.

He took charge like a warrior ready to fight! And throw all the gloom I began to see light.

He drew in my hand to his lips he did kiss. Not once did I feel that my life was amiss.

With courage and fortitude he never once wavered, but kept on working and showing me favor.

He then did the dishes, yes, washed them all clean. Dried them with a towel until they showed sheen.

He worked like a madman, no task was too small. He worked and he worked not complaining at all.

He drew up his brow in deep concentration, making me watch in anticipation.

The steam from the water looked like it could boil, but nothing deterred him from cleaning the soil.

He put everything in it's place, no mistake did he make. And then to the garage the trash he did take.

And when it was done, he held me so close I could feel how the wind had been cold on his nose.

I hugged him so tight, for he saved me the trouble of making the day length seem more than just double.

And into the night he knew what was to be, for there is no better man then he is to me.

But I heard him exclaim as we passionately kissed, "My love for you, dear, will never desist."
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