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
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