The Day After Christmas Letdown When Just a Little Boy

Upon reflecting with misty eyes childhood days of yore the mantle of anticipatory excitement mantle I wore upon advent of December twenty fifth not quite threescore years ago knew nothing about being dirt poor yours truly doggedly felt sense of belonging among k9 korp versus moody blues hangdog look resembling Eeyore. Now fast forward envisioning gray bewhiskered scraggly muttering old Unitarian that would be yours truly courtesy hyperbole as would be obvious upon quick visual scan, who dabbles writing at least one poem within twenty four hour time frame i.e. quotidian basis, eh not so much an outdoorsman these days and definitely not, nor ever trumpeted taps as militiaman within the ranks of Kublai Khan emperor of China, and grandson of Genghis Khan I remain holed up within one bedroom apartment unit b44 as iceman, no, not by choice, but series of unfortunate events primarily faulty heater at the mercy of fate, a mere dice toss gameplan always associated as separate among establishmentarian forever dreamily fancying married to countrywoman, combination platter academician. Lo and behold days mein kampf slipped and slid away leaving faded memories precious young lad oft times felt alienated (think) castaway yet simultaneously unable to flyaway loosing self from mother's apron strings, while slipping grip signals foray into abyss conjured courtesy thru information superhighway. Reflection upon tempus fugit incredulous kick **** lightspeed precocious age sentimental reverie storybook happy go lucky idyllic past indeed, then bound by ignorance, hence blissfulness no longer doth proceed.