Boxing Day

this is a silly little poem that i wrote for a contest on writing.com a couple of winters ago.

I enjoyed all the festivities but now I need to nap.
For many, many presents the family did unwrap.

The squeals of chatter and laughter ring in my ear.
Excedrin’s my salvation. Long ago I gave up beer.

It must have been an orphan that authored Silent Night.
For silence at family gatherings is a non-existent sight.

On the way to my respite, the kitchen I must pass.
My heart tumbles into a pit of self-pitying morass.

"Rest will have to wait", I sigh, "For I have so much to do".
"Will this holiday ever be over?” My mood's turning blue.

My husband's in his recliner, cursing the Charger's fumble.
I furiously wash the dishes. And I mumble. And I grumble.

The turkey carcass beckons. The floor needs a sweeping.
With misgivings I leave it all undone, in favor of sleeping.

Tucked away in my quiet room, I lay down my aching head.
I dream of tomorrow's gift returns; fitfully tossing in my bed.

With an overworked sales clerk, tomorrow I will plead...
"Please take back the gifts that we don't really need."

"No receipt, no return!” he will pompously state...
So re-boxing and re-gifting is surely next year’s fate.


As I fantasize about boxing his ears, I will slowly turn away.
Who says that Americans don't participate in Boxing Day?