Lighting Disaster
I look at Dad and his sad plight.
The Christmas tree bulbs will not light.
How can we celebrate the night,
without that sight, without that sight?
Now he must sit and check each one,
a chore that is not really fun.
Out to the stores we quickly run,
'till he is done, 'til he is done.
When we return, our home's on fire.
I think that Dad has crossed a wire.
The neighbors come out to admire
our Christmas pyre, our Christmas pyre.
Written 12/26/18, Contest - BUNNY JUMP and Caren Krutsinger
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