Aftermath of Christmas. (a first draft thing)

Twas the day after Christmas
and all round the house,
the adults were snoring...
loud as drunk skunk mouse...

and in each home the litter
was knee high deep, the kitty
was delighted, plenty of choices
to keep.  In each deep pile...

there might be mices to eat...
Inside the refrigerator, the remains
of the meat loaf, sat with the pudding
and the gravy boat.  The children:

Too busy, too busy to eat, were drawing
and coloring, and making visions too steep.
The cat drawn in in black cola pen, sticklike
with hunger, passed a ball in Santa's sack.

All decorated with sugar, and soft gooey bits,
all ready for package for next Christmas come.
Next year will be the year of greater things to come,
heavier sacks, and more baubles, another midnight flit.

Come Dancer, Come Blitzen, come one and all,
Rudolf is lit up, and there's frost on the wall.
The family are waiting, the Christingle is done,
and they've left out the Oranges, the color of the sun.