Feingold Christmas Poem

‘Tis daybreak on Christmas.

One look at his face

says he’s been cheating.

He’s in outer space.

His stocking is mangled.

Its contents are strewn.

Picking it all up

will take until noon.

He tears into gifts and

knocks over a lamp.

Everyone wonders

why my eyes are damp.

I know he’s reacting

to something. Alas!

Could it have been all

that incense at Mass?

I realized too late as

he came up the aisle

Swinging the incense

with cherubic smile.

Whatever the culprit

I may never know.

One thing is certain.

This day will be slow.

Thank goodness for Feingold!

We know this won’t last.

I’ll stick to Stage One.

The reaction will pass.

I hope that your Christmas

is filled with delight.

Ours sure was different . . .

In fact, outta sight!