Ginger-dread

My daughter works in theatre,

A carpenter. It’s true.

She’s very good at what she does,

Is always in demand because,

You seldom see her make faux pas,

Excels with nails and glue.

 

And you should see the things she builds!

They’re miracles, I swear,

A whole apartment on the stage,

An office, ship, a courtroom, cage,

‘Sets’ the scene for joy or rage,

All built with skill and care.

 

We’ve witnessed her artistic bent

In herown life as well.

Her décor can be called ‘unique’,

A mix of modern and antique,

With personality and ‘cheek’,

In vivids and pastels.

 

And better, yet, are holidays,

The artist does emerge,

With graves dug deep in our front yard,

Or lights with which our house is starred,

Or one enormous greeting card,

You see her talents surge!

 

But none are much more obvious than,

Her homes of gingerbread,

There’s never a bucolic scene,

Where lights and candles softly gleam,

And icing, trees and rooftops preen,

And only JOY is spread.

 

Instead, we have a ‘what we’d see’

If disasters hit:

An earthquake leaves you in the lurch,

With flames, a building is besmirched,

A Christmas train through a Christmas church,

Unusual, you’ll admit!

 

Sooo…

If homes of gingerbread you make,

And just want something sweet,

Even though your kids are bright and kind,

Fantastic at what they’ve designed,

To THEATRE, if they’re inclined,

Just stick with Trick or Treat!

Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,

With POETRY, we all besought,

To try to make the week begin

With pleasant thoughts…

Perhaps a grin?

So Jenny, Charlotte, Mimi, Me

Have crafted poems for you to see.

And now you’ve read what we have wrought…

Did we help?

Or did we not?

Next Monday's shortest of the year,

We'll see if we can find some cheer,

So come and celebrate with us,

The Winter Solstice, we'll discuss!