The Day After Christmas
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When I was thinking about a Christmas poem, it struck me that most of what I had read, and indeed written, was about the lead-up and the event itself. There seemed to be very little about the big clear-up job following the party. So in 2021, I wrote this in an attempt to rectify the imbalance - with a bit of a laugh.
The word that is starred out begins with f and has presumably been auto-censored because in America it is considered rude. But I'm English, and over here it is just a slang word for cigarette.
The Day After Christmas
It’s the day after Christmas and all round the gaff
Lay the wrappings from presents, both splendid and naff.
Bottles upended and glasses on stairs,
Stains on the carpet, the curtains, the chairs.
Christmas tree fallen and blocking a door.
Bedrooms resounding to thunderous snores.
The remnants of turkey and all of its trimmings
Where e-coli blooms its unnoticed beginnings.
Upon the detritus, all twinkly and bright,
Shine fairy lights, forgotten, left on overnight.
Booze fumes and *** smoke still hang in the air.
It’s a mess that would make the most pious saint swear.
Under the sink on their cheap plastic tray,
Lurk brushes and sponges, the all-surface spray.
For after the fun, the excess celebration
Comes the down-side, the chore, the clean-up operation.
Sanity must be returned to the house
Where nothing’s displaced, not even a mouse.
Was it worth it for one day of party and cheer?
You bet! And we’ll do the same nonsense next year!
Copyright © Brian K. Bilverstone | Year Posted 2022
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