Christmas Hash

Christmas decor has begun to bore Season's diminishing returns must not ignore Ingenious craft stagnates; no longer hearts implore Straggling trinkets of blithe, Christmas lore To be quickly discarded or saved for dated encore Spent wreaths fading yellow on every crest, door Stray needles scattered around porch and floor Mellowed holly berries dangle in sickly, twined ward Scaly, shedding Christmas tree barnacled to lifeless moor; Sticky resin seeping from each, tapped-out pore Once sturdy timber now dry pulp to strip and core Empty boxes lie around crumpled and gored Treasured contents have long been pilfered, scored Pretty wrapping paper no longer beauty doth afford Shattered, punctured and recklessly torn Ribbon strands now loose, tinseled chord Decorative bows plucked; in dark, dank closet stored Pageantry and festivity shorn; colloquial vestiges restored Common fabric now doth the hearth and porch adorn