First Christmas that my lad and I
will be apart from kin,
so I brainstorm something special
to keep the season in:
"I shall make some yummy things!
Like all the grown-ups do!
A turkey! Stuffed with stuffing!
And smashed potatoes, too!"
I stopped just short of "Vegetables!" -
hot damn, was that one close.
I may be faux grown-up-ing it
but veggies are still gross.
"PIE!" I yelled at very last
though I knew it since the start.
"Pumpkin and delicious!
And spiced to warm the heart."
So Christmas crept in tiny paces
until its Eve arrived
and I mixed and poured and baked
and soon a pie was pied.
"It's good." I said after a bite,
the fork still in my hand.
"But it's just not right 'enough' I think."
And that's when it began:
"I will make a new one!
To make it how I must!
New custard and new sweetness!
A new and flaky crust!"
'Cept two pies, although good,
might make digestion skewed;
"I could toss the first", I thought,
"but I don't like wasting food."
"Give slices to our neighbors then?"
But that was weird as well -
'Here is half a pie, new friends!
Aren't we friggin' swell?!'
"Accept it, Me!" I told myself.
"It's not a big 'to do'.
Love and friends are all that's right!"
And I know this through and through.
But minds are silly, funny things.
And mine the most of all -
Stuck in little endless thoughts,
looped and imbecile.
So here I am, I'm wide awake,
with options all repeating.
None of which'll fit just right
but none of which are leaving!