Melody At The Gate

The holiday’s upon us, gifts
Are piling up in festive drifts,
And fruitcake by the hundredweight
Is stacked beside the garden gate
To be bestowed upon the flocks
Of carolers that haunt these blocks
Each Christmas Eve, inflicting joy
In harmony on every boy
Or girl who answers when they ring,
Ensnaring them in Christmas sing
As spiders do unwary moths.
We’ve extra fruitcake…no? Your loths.


About Michael

Silliness is good
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