Like ever I procrastinate
then purchase in a frenzied rush,
precariously navigate
the whiny, aisle-blocking crush
while hackneyed carols resonate
until you pray for them to hush—
I’ve mumbled my last expletive
there’s truly nothing left to give.
Are You Reading Me?
Spoken like a curmudgeon of the first order! Excuse me while I wipe away a little tear...
ReplyDeleteSorry... I always get a little emotional when someone plays my themesong.
Good job, Bob, it couldn't be expressed any better.
Love your poetry!
ReplyDeleteDon't pay any attention to Bubba...he crys a lot! Great poem and just like
ReplyDelete"the best spots are not on the map" the best gifts can't be bought!
humbug! just kidding but glad it's over bubba
ReplyDeleteHi deborah, thanks stop back again.
Hey Shirley, so true like the gift of your friendship!