A Spectre of Christmas

This is a bit of silliness I wrote several years ago that tend to I share around this season. It was fun to write, and I hope you find it as goofy and fun as I do.

A Spectre of Christmas
by Edgar Allan Poe (sort of)

‘Twas the day before Christmas -- I sat in my room,
Black curtains drawn against darkening gloom.
The stockings were empty and charred near the hearth
and I sat, stony, somber, no peace on my earth.

The children, the wife, had been long tucked away…
Their bones turned to dust in the depths of the grave.
And alone, I atoned, for the sins of my past,
and I sat, stony, somber, with heart and soul lashed.

When, at length, there arose a clamor outside --
a bellow of beasts under licking whips hide --
and the voice of a madman that rattled the doors …
I sat, somber, silent, as I listened for more.

The damned creatures names spilled forth from the list
in tones that trailed fire from the river of Styx.
As the raging voice howled and harkened the past,
I stood and I strode toward the window at last.

I parted the darkness and stared through the pane
at a dark harnessed burden that sat like a stain
to mar the fresh snowfall that covered the ground …
I stood, and I stared, and I made not a sound.

A vermillion-wrapped wraith, with whip firm in hand,
stood in his sleigh to survey the bleak land,
blasted by winter, left barely alive…
It was then that I knew that Saint Nick had arrived…