’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,

Barely a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Mom and Dad sat on the sofa, seeking  some ease,

As the last of the presents lay under the tree.

Both checked their phones just to make sure they hadn’t missed

Some late-breaking miracle on Santa’s big list.

The tree overflowed with abundance galore,

Credit cards smoldered—could they squeeze out one more?

Finally convinced there was nothing undone,

Each sighed sarcastically, “Well… wasn’t this fun?”

“What is Christmas about—is it seeking relief?

Have we somehow been operating on faulty belief?

What are we missing with all this fatigue and this stress,

Just counting the days till New Year brings rest?”

Pondering this, they both felt a tear

Silently wishing… true Christmas lived here.

Hiding, perhaps, the deepest of fears:

What if all this shopping and  stuff

Is nothing but fluff?

They stared at the tree in the still of the night,

Seeking some comfort… as things had........

© The Saratogian