Bulbs-Bows- Beer
I've done my part; all the players are laid to rest.
Three wise men gazing at a star.
A gentle beast braying
The lamb with the chipped leg.
A family of three still smiling
Though they lost a little bit more hay.
The season of holly and miracles is over.
Plastic messiah dumped to the back of the closet.
With the bulbs, bows, and happy wrapping paper.
The good food and good mood are gone for another year.
It's back to spam and eggs, A house of chains.
The heavens have surely darkened.
I slide out of the sun and into the Inn.
For some post-holiday tiny gray talk.
A couple of cheers with a chaser of sloppiness.
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