Trippin' on Christmas

Another precious Christmas morning memory - that I'll never hear the end of.

Early Christmas morning, before the first light,

I crept down the hall, with no wee ones in sight.

My stocking feet carried me into the den,

Where I held in a curse before counting to ten.

Santa had been here, of that I felt sure.

For a pile of dog poop lay fresh on the floor.

(not what I asked for, but whatever)

As is common ‘round here the task fell on me,

To clean up the mess, whatever it be.

So, with tissue in hand, I picked up the doo,

And what happened next, I swear to be true…

The walk to the next room seemed simple enough,

Who could have known that one step would be tough?

It happened so fast, no time to prepare,

I knew I was done when my foot caught the stair.

With the grace of no angel, and poop still in hand,

My body took flight, but was destined to land.

The leg of a chair and my forehead made friends,

While pain gripped my knee, just under the bend.

I wanted to laugh, but I knocked myself loopy,

And one moment later remembered the poopy.

With dread I looked over, and feeling unstable,

Saw two dark brown streaks that ran under the table.

Now some people hate all this Christmas baloney,

Me, I’m just glad I didn’t ask for a pony.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Yes, this really happened. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my silly poem. Just be grateful I didn't crank out a limerick this time.

Much love - J