Twas the night
after Christmas
and all through the house
I noticed a hint
—just a slip—
of a slouch.

A few times
I saw

shoulders sag
just a bit.
Or a smile
would come
but just wouldn’t
quite fit.

would start
but then might
trail away
something here…

Was it boredom,
or sadness,
or something
more deep?

I couldn’t
quite tell,
until all
went to sleep.

It was then
I remembered
my own
younger days,
and how
would shift
each year
that I aged.

The feelings
would always
be filled
big hopes
and sweet dreams
and excitement
and thrills.

But when
it would end,

the letdown
set in—
even more
as my years
of toys
came to an end.

I’d find myself
(and wishing
I didn’t)
a long list
of things
that felt wrong
and forbidden.

Is it over?
Was it fun?
When will it

Was it all
that I dreamed of?

I’m starting
to yearn

for that
magical feeling
I had
when I woke
to wrapped presents
and a whole day
to play.

I’m so thankful,
so glad,
and yet still
kinda sad.
Something’s missing.
Something left.
Something’s gone
that I had.

Two nights ago
and hope-sos
burned bright,
as visions of
lit up
my night.

Now it’s over.
Now we know.
Now we’ve got
what we’ve got.
No more waiting
No more wondering.
No more watching
the clock.

And now…

I’m not certain…

which part
I like more.

The waiting
and wishing…

Or the knowing
for sure.



Merry Day After, friends!  



This poem was originally published here.

1 Comment

  • Vanessa

    Roger Angell called it “the black dog of Christmas,” and noted that it slunk through in the afternoon. Well written.


Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.