I’m supposed to write a holiday piece?
I do not want to, not the least.

For you see, the truth is like mold.
I don’t like holidays, they’re way too old.

Christmas you ask? How wonderful you say. . .
I’d rather play games; they’re not quite as ***.

Valentine’s Day, a lover’s appeal.
It really isn’t that big of a deal.

Halloween night, so creepy with fright!
Readings’ more fun surrounded with light.

St. Patrick’s Day, covered in green and beer.
I don’t think I’m starting to like it around here.

Easter, with a big colorful bunny.
If he finally got caught I bet it’d be funny.

Now thanksgiving at least, I do find a fancy.
And even I, when the food comes out, I get a bit antsy.