She paces endlessly in her head,

there is nothing more for her to do now,

the decision is in others’ hands.

This is where she gets nervous,

not being in control.

This is how she has been let down

so many times before.

She repeats to herself,

if it’s meant to be, it will be,

and reminds herself

she did all she could do.

The minutes on the clock pass.

The days on the calendar too.

The deadline approaches,

soon she should know.

But waiting, waiting,

waiting is the hardest part.

She crawled across the sofa as he relaxed in his seat. Her hair fell over to one side as she sighed and smiled. He lowered his book and looked her way. She looked 10 years younger; he was amazed. A little hair color does wonders. Her dark brown eyes fluttered as she closed in, one of her hands rested on his thigh. Her shirt hung away from her body, not hiding anything from view.

He smiled, then he saw her bewitching look. His eyes locked onto hers. Those dark brown eyes had so much depth; he could easily get lost in them. She blinked once, then he felt it. His soul came pouring out from his blue eyes. She continued to drain him, but he didn’t care. She had him mesmerized, so it continued until he finally spoke.

“Stop, you’re stealing my soul.” He blinked, breaking the trance.

She sat back on her own legs. Foiled again.

“Is your dragon red or green?”

He looks up

with an arched brow.

“You know,

those are evil dragons.”

She smiled, unaware.

He continued on.

“I’d rather my dragon

be silver or gold.”

She lowered her head

having learned once more.

But a red dragon

would be sublime,

and she’d love to see

a green dragon in the sky.

But silver it is this time.

It’s what he’d prefer,

falling on the good side.

And he teases me

for being lawful good!

Hallmark movies playing in the background.

Pecan bars and warm tea on the table.

A new tree adorns our living room,

Full of warm white lights and berries.

A woodland theme I chose this year.

New ornaments first, gently unwrapped,

Collected throughout the year.

Some homemade ones added in.

It looks full, but I want more,

Feeling somewhat sentimental still.

The boxes wait in the garage to go through.

Soon the boughs will bow full of the old and the new.

Transforming the house will follow too,

pretty little baubles catching the light,

Bringing us peace, hope, and happiness.

I wish I could make this time of the year last.

Stifling a yawn after a busy day,

Cleaning and baking and cooking away,

Everyone’s stuffed, it was good they say.

Desserts await for us to slay.

Pecan pie bars and apple pie,

Cookies and banana pudding I spy.

The sweet goodness catches my eye.

But I can’t eat another bite, oh my!

Happy Thanksgiving Day!

The stench, the stench. Oh, my gawd! The stench!

Tears well up in my eyes as I try to hold my breath.

Forced to flee from my chosen seat,

I can’t move fast enough.

Something must have died,

deep inside his rectum.

Rectum? Damn near killed ’em!

The cats run away with a case of the zoomies.

Dear gawd, someone light a candle or two!

Spray the deodorizers, coughing ensues.

There’s nothing strong enough

to conquer this beast.

But to flee the house and let it air out.

Maybe give it an hour or two at least.

Maybe then we can start to breathe again.

A little humor as family and friends start to gather, enjoying foods they don’t normally have, and imbibing in spirits. You know it’s going to happen!

Sad little plants, begging for help,

neglected all season long.

Finally, a crisp day came upon us,

and inspiration, or the threat of company, hit.

Time to clean up these little pots.

Some are a lost cause, so out with the old,

in with the new… herbs and tomato plants.

The rosemary looks sad, but still has life,

so a little snip here, some fresh soil there,

and then, voila! A happy little plant.

Dirt flew everywhere, even in my hair,

thanks to the wind blowing across the lake.

Now I’m not ashamed of our little planter garden…

Off to the next pre-Thanksgiving task…Cookies!

Pouring over the details of the past year,

Looking through all the happy times,

Making out the annual cards.

Picking pictures with the best smiles,

While knowing sometimes they were a mask,

But hoping to force my way through.

The address book lays open

And pens scattered looking for the right color.

Scripting out each address by hand.

Texting a few, remembering they moved.

Stuffing, stuffing, hoping for no paper cuts.

Sticking little otter stamps to the corner.

All that’s left, seal and put them to post.

Greetings to all this happy holiday season!