We made it to Christmas Eve,

Expectations grieved…

Running on nerves–

My nerves are worse,

But thankful for what we’ve received.

She’s running like a mad clock,

Forcing herself to not stop…

She had the stamps–

Anxiety ramps–

She asked me to do something–POP!

What I needed a stamp to get

Her a puzzle book set…

It’s late

But she’ll wait,

happy I got her something yet.

I get so wrapped up in “me”,

Putting off reality…

Folks I love

Rarely rise above,

My pain–so them I can see!

So I’m here in the loft,

While she takes a moment off…

Guilt at “not doing”

Is  my joy chewing,

Up , when preparations I have scoffed.

–Jonathan Caswell


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