Mare-ism Monday---Installment #4 and 1/2

To my mother at Christmas. You must know how much I love you. For I took hours to construct this beautiful poem, in just your honor.

‘Twas the night before Christmas at 936 Spruce Drive.
Big Mare’s daughters were excited and felt so alive.

The kitchen was packed full of good stuff to eat,
Turkey, Ham, and of course something sweet.

On weekdays the cupboard was stocked very full,
Cupcakes and Ho Ho’s, Ding Dongs and Swiss Rolls.

For holidays we would bake dozen of treats,
To take to Grandmas --to enjoy and to eat.

The Cookies wrapped in foil-- made a big twinkle,
Peanut butter, chocolate chip and Mare’s famous Crinkles.

It was time to go,--out the back door we went,
To fill the blue Ford Escort –the one with a dent.

Then all of a sudden, arouse such a crash,
We saw Big Mare’s arms--- fly up in a flash.

We looked down to see and made a big gasp,
Only to find Big Mare had fallen on her ass.

She looked up perturbed, as if woken out of bed,
“GET THE DAMN COOKIES”, was all that she said.

We wanted to ask if all was OK,
But if we didn’t save the cookies ---Oh the price we would pay.

Go Ree Ree, Go Leenie, Go Megzy and CoCo,
Pick up the cookies or we’re stuck with just Ho Ho’s.

Big Mare lay like a tick ready to pop,
Pointing her finger—“Be sure to get every last drop.”

We scattered and scurried to pick up the crumbs,
Frost bitten and cold with bleeding knuckles and thumbs.

The last cookie we salvaged from winters cold frost,
Our attention turn to Mare, who looked very lost.

We laughed at her hysterically to get her upright,
She glared and responded, “Kiss my ass you bitches-stay home tonight.”