I set out to Christmas shop on Saturday, but I got distracted by the fog, so I took some eerie pictures and I wrote this goofy poem. You’re probably pretty happy right now that you’re not on my Christmas shopping list…
Once upon a midday dreary
While I hummed all Christmas cheery
many a quaint and seasonal tunes of a yuletide theme.
While I whistled, nearly singing
Suddenly I saw a clinging,
creeping, Hitchcock, misty, springing
fog develop like whipped cream.
“T’is just fleeting here,” I muttered
Either that or it’s a dream.
Ah, distinctly I remember
‘Twas in the happy, mid December
and each hopeful family member, made the list I’d checked before.
Eagerly I sought the mall, hoping for a Christmas haul
and to avoid a traffic stall. (Shopping’s not my favorite chore.)
In fact I grabbed my camera too, ‘cuz shopping can be such a bore.
Still, I headed to the store.
Presently, I found distraction, and a certain chain reaction
Just outside my own car door.
Stubbornly the fog was creeping, coolly over water seeping
and I started quickly leaping, leaping toward the river shore
with my camera ready pointed toward the river bank and o’er
looking for a shot or four.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my distracted fancy smiling
And my Christmas list compiling, dropped right to the icy floor.
Though my list stayed long and ready, that cool scene proved far too heady
So I lingered, fingers steady, on the foggy river shore.
Tell you what that dark bird whispered; it’s the stuff of Edgar’s lore.
Will I finish Christmas shopping, all the while my camera’s popping
And the creepy birds are flopping, misty scenes that I adore?
Oh, my dear ones, this I tell you, no excuses will I sell to
those who’ve heard this tale before.
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”