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Poem

FIVE days before Christmas, we neither
dream nor think about a white Christmas.
We see mostly red, green, silver, and gold.
We are rather pleased with a cool and sunny
Christmas Season. And we can't wait for the gumbo.

FOUR days before Christmas, our daughter is shopping
for us, her three children, and our other grandchildren.
All of them love their grandma's gumbo.

THREE days before Christmas, the streets are jammed
and the stores are packed as we shop for sausage, chicken,
crab, shrimp, and all the great seasoning for my wife's gumbo.

TWO days before Christmas, I am stressed as I shop for
a special gift for my bride of 52 years. I love my wife,
but I must confess; I'm thinking about her gumbo.

ONE day before Christmas, all our kids and grandkids are gathered
for our Christmas celebration.  Gifts are shared and opened with
lots of smiles, laughs, and noise. And everyone is feasting on
Miss Barbara's gumbo.

It's Christmas Day, and all is calm, quiet, and serene.
My bride and I are all alone and enjoying the
finest gumbo. Merry Christmas to all.

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