Christmas Play

I have to mold a story by the end of today,

With impeccable stature and no grave delay.

I ponder and think: there must be an easy way,
to create a perfect Christmas play.

I put pen to paper and start writing down,

The time of Christmas brought cheer to the small town,

As Santa blessed our king with a beautiful new crown.

But these first two lines bring a small but noticeable frown.

A FROWN? Everyone hears and comes to listen to the story now,

My santa and king come alive and corner my pen ‘round,

They snatch it with deceit and hold it table-bound,

As who knew my own thoughts weren’t allowed.

I look in front and see Santa and the king bicker,

On who controls the wondrous winter.

I see that their happiness has gone to a snicker,

As who knew that I was their dependent thinker.

I pick up my pen and drag them back into the tale,

As I only wrote TWO lines, and then I went stale.

But there is no way that Christmas can fail.

I need to keep writing, before the cold turns me pale.

I shiver and write my next couple lines,

As my sadness is hidden in self-told I’M FINE’s!

The characters look at me numb and dead inside,

But all I could say is I’m stuck in a bind.

Tap, tap– I hear a rattle on my wooden door.

A rattle unexpected, as my paper falls to floor.

I grab my paper and look it over once more.

As- HOW CAN A CHRISTMAS STORY BE THIS POOR?

I look outside in grave fear,

As my brain and imagination was already in high-gear.

I look outside and see a car with my family in rear:

Mother, Sister, Brother, everyone I hold dear.

I open the door with great delight,

As my frown is gone with this magnificent sight.

My ideas and imagination take full flight:

Stockings, elves, toys and snow of the prettiest white.

I pick up the pen and drop the king and Santa down into the story once more.

Who knew Christmas’s beauty is evermore?

The smile and love is an eyesight not sore,

As who knew Christmas’s beauty will be evermore.