dasdaw (reposeanon) wrote in repose, @ 2016-12-09 16:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | seven morgan, ~plot: secret santa |
Locked: Seven M
Twas sixteen nights before Christmas, when all through the town
Not a party was scheduled, not even a hoedown.
My trousers were hung in the closet with care
In hopes that an invitation soon would be there.
My shoes were nestled all snug in their boxes,
While I dreamt and thought of nights spent with hot foxes.
And my bro with his book, and I with my Netflix,
Had just settled in for a boring Repose Christmas
When inside the journals there was a nice little note,
I read through it again and again to see what had been wrote.
I quick grabbed a pen and thought long and hard
Tore open my notebook and channeled the bard.
I looked out the window, still no snow to be seen
But inspiration had hit me, or so it would seem.
I had a job, a task in the days up ahead
One that would bring joy and an end to the dread.
My pen flew across paper, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment I could be secret St Nick!
More rapid than quarter notes the words they just came!
I hollered and shouted, and my brother, well, he called me a name.
I don't dress in fur, but I look great in leather.
I don't travel by sleigh, but I am really fucking clever
I've got tons of money, but I can be crafty too
Anything you'd like, I'll do my best for you
You've hung on quite enough through this strange little poem
I won't bother you much longer, my new found chum
But feel free to respond, I promise I don't bite,
Happy Christmas to you, and have a good-night.
XOXO,
Secret Santa