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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Opinion · #2096683
The holidays are pushed faster each year.

Christmas is starting in June;
I have to say that is soon.
Autumn advances, all right;
days lose a little more light.

Halloween shelves with decor;
broom and a bat by the door.
Walgreens displays skull and witch;
early All Hallow’s Eve’s pitch.

Beer of Octoberfest great;
Samuel Adams of late.
Pumpkin Spice version extant;
hair, latte, perhaps eggplant.

I took a walk yesterday;
what I saw blew me away.
Paul on his porch got some thrills
putting up Halloween frills.

I thought about it real hard,
so I advanced through his yard.
“Can you give me a reason
  why you’re rushing the season?”

Paul looked at me with a grin,
then he told me to come in.
He said amid ghostly moans,
“I have to keep up with Jones.”

“This is September, you know.”
“Do you think it apropos?”
Paul declared he thought it cool
because of goblin and ghoul.

Warlocks and demons do frown
when that sun radiates down.
They do not go trick or treat
as they succumb to the heat.

(And maybe Santa had heard
  that a mall change had occurred.
  Could be he’ll have to work nights,
  long before Halloween frights.)

Love for the almighty buck
causes norms to run amok.
Symbols of holidays dear
appear untimely each year.



40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp 
9-17-16


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