Party’s over folks,
the stragglers must leave
and the rainbow confetti
absolutely
must be vacuumed.
The doom
of a silent room,
the ghostly hum
of drunk rum.
She called it a
“Bah Humbug”
party.
For those who were
sick of holiday graces,
those who absolutely
needed to put mall
Santas in their places.
A bitter hint
of quiet bliss
between Granny’s
angry welcome.
“I HATE THE HOLIDAYS!”
The joys
of many naughty
girls and boys.
We never know
what the New Year
will bring,
but we’ll always have
grumpy guys who cringe
to the aggravated beat
of Christmas songs on repeat.
