One writer’s take on a popular holiday poem. Enjoy!
’Twas just before Christmas, ideas had been humming
Fingers clacking the keys and suffering from numbing
Time to shut down for the end of the year
Munch on a cookie, drink a cold beer
The house was so quiet because I’d been up late
Drafting a plot twist that just wouldn’t wait
But until January, my writing was done
I needed a break, I needed some fun
I scrolled through my playlist, found the Rat Pack
Danced to Dean Martin while making a snack
I was cutting a slice of a candied fruit torte
When I heard a soft giggle then a cynical snort
The refrigerator provided only dim light
The rest of the room was shadowed that night
I hurried to the wall, flipped up the switch
Turned and was startled. Yelled, “Son of a—“
A spritely young faerie stood on my dish
I asked, “Are you here to grant me a wish?”
She giggled again, a musical sound
The harder she laughed, the more that I frowned.
She said, “I come here with wonderful news.
I’ve been assigned to be your creative muse.”
I took a short moment to think about that.
She didn’t seem helpful. She seemed like a brat.
I have writer friends whose muses are fickle.
Relying on her could leave me in a pickle.
I needed to know. “What’s really the point?”
“Relax,” she said. “Don’t get your nose out of joint.
All writers at some point need inspiration.
You need to recharge. You need a vacation.
But when the holidays come to an end,
You’ll find that I can be your very best friend.”
“I don’t need a friend and I don’t need a muse.
Do you know what it is that I really could use?”
“Tell me,” she said. “I’ll help if I can.
We can brainstorm together, come up with a plan.”
It was my turn to laugh. I knew without saying
I’d have better luck by hoping and praying.
But she was my muse, so I gave it a try.
“What I need isn’t something you can inspire or buy.
The only way you can be my lifesaver
Is if by chance Father Time owes you a favor.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Well, I can talk to my boss.
But I’m afraid your request will be a total loss.
I can inspire a character flaw or plot twist.
With such help, I could get you on the bestsellers list.
But time is the one thing I cannot provide.”
I squared my shoulders and answered with pride,
“That’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.
Your help isn’t what this season’s about.
It’s about love and charity and true gratitude
Not about worry and bad attitude.”
She said, “You’ll be fine. You have nothing to fear.
I’m certain 2018 will be your year.”
Her final words lingered as she faded from view—
“Merry Christmas to all, and much success wished to you!”
As the poem says, I’m winding down for the year. I just wanted to take a moment to tell you, in my own whimsical and badly-parodied way, that I’m grateful for you. I know I could have used more time this year, and I definitely could use more next year (we’ll discuss that later), but regardless of how busy I’ve been or will be, I want you to know I’ve enjoyed my time with each and every one of you, and I truly appreciate the time we spend together.
Wishing you all blessed and joyous holidays!