Real Presence
Buttons are popping out and everyone
Claims they need my knickknacks
As my head is filled with bric-a-brac,
The year is landing down into holidays,
Where days slide into one another.
People strain for a spot at the table,
Once seated, they soon leave for shopping,
Then come back and continue eating,
Through every course, they complain
I have been selfish with the wine.
Feathers and wrapping paper populate
The homestead, a touch of snow
And football will occupy the backyard,
If anyone tells me my holiday cracker
Is spent at both ends, I will explode.
