It's poetry, not procrastination...

Twas the night after Thanksgiving and all through the house;

Piles of projects were growing, even felt cheese for a stuffed mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

Except for the one I was still stitching (while trying not to swear.)

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

On matching holiday pillowcases they rested their heads.

My husband had settled down for a long winter's nap,

While I sat up half the night trying to finish a knit cap.

When from down in the sewing room there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.

Then my back seized from the hours spent hunched over my needles,

and my gait was as awkward and slow as a beetle's.

The slowly growing light of my eco-friendly bulbs,

Cast sinister shadows among all my giant plastic tubs.

A large mound of fabric had knocked to the ground,

A basket of yarn which had been neatly wound.

Ribbons and lace seemed to go on for miles,

and nothing was left of my nicely organized piles!

Now how would I remember which fabric I had chosen,

To edge the soft blanket meant to warm toes that were frozen?

And how many aprons was I supposed to cut out?

This Christmas crafting is out of hand- of that there is no doubt!

I started to fret and to stumble around,

Tripping over my yard goods that littered the ground.

Everything was half finished or not yet even started,

Looking over my list left me feeling faint-hearted.

I'd had all these plans, these wishes and schemes,

Of personally fulfilling all my family's Christmas dreams.

And of giving my loved ones, both far away and near,

a gesture of goodwill, some handmade holiday cheer.

If I didn't finish now my budget was blown,

Which would definitely make my poor husband groan.

So I sat down to my machines, determination renewed,

and turned on sprightly music to lighten my mood.

My scissors they flashed, and my needles they flew,

and my confidence soared as the finished pile grew!

My heart swelled with pride as I surveyed the largess, 

That my two hands had fashioned from a big tangled mess.

Sweaters, slippers and socks, and pajamas galore,

Ready to be worn by the folks I adore.

I knit a stuffed crab, and a baby doll too, 

and some warm, woolen mittens in a great shade of blue.

Presents to wrap up, both useful and frilly,

Some purely decorative, and some downright silly.

Each gift was chosen and crafted with care,

and to keep their extremities from going about bare.

I hope Santa had noticed that I'd made his burden lighter,

A gift certificate for a massage would sure make my Christmas brighter.

But perhaps the best lesson I've learned in this year,

Is to start next year's presents while I can still taste the fear...

And to all other crafters who are in my same plight,

Merry Christmas to all- and may your Ott lights burn bright!