Mystic's Christmas Poem

Mystic

Later that night when all was quiet in our house; 

when not one was stirring, not even a mouse.   

When both were snoring upstairs in their pits,

 I crept down the stairs and shredded their festive gifts to bits.

Later that morning when they did awake

 I was fast asleep in dad’s armchair, innocent I state. 

The Christmas tree had fallen, crashed all on its own;

 its glitter and balls were everywhere,

 adorning our Christmassy home.

When dad did see, he gave off a sigh,

 I speedily meowed, “Don’t look at me,

 twas that buzzing fly!”

After breakfast when all was put right, 

I nestled on the old man’s lap, purring, 

“Same time, tonight?”