Twelve Days Lost

by on March 7th, 2015
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Lonely stocking hanging there,
With not a thing inside to share;
Sad is your plight,
It’s past Christmas night,
And of the twelve days, none cares.

For two months before its time;
And it should be a crime;
Sold out as street fare.
It’s true season, now sublime.

By the time it really comes,
The Drummer Boy lost his drum;
The lights have gone down;
The tree’s on the ground.
And true Christmas has succumbed.

What a shame it is lost,
And I wonder at what cost?
It was short but grand;
Memories still stand.
From the Twelve Days of Christmas now tossed.

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