Twas The Restoration Period Before Christmas…

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Twas the restoration period before Christmas, when under the roof,

 

 

Not a creature was stirring, not even a Poof.

Hosiery was meticulously suspended by hooks on the wall,

In anticipation that visitation from St Nicholas would befall.

 

The offspring were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of bousou spread danced in their heads.

And Seepa with her dangly bracelets, Bleeker in his cap,

Had just settled their cerebrums for a long Martian nap.

 

When out in the laneway there arose such a dissonance,

I tripped over the bed to see what was outside the residence.

I stumbled to the entrance though I intended to march,

Threw open the latches and stooped under the arch.

 

The glow from the lighting on fallen red dust,

Gave lustre to objects corroded by rust.

When to my optical sensory organs should appear an apparition,

A miniature transporter, and eight tiny Blue Martians.

 

With a little Red operator, so lively and thick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

Rapid as sling competitors his diminutive helpers came,

And he relied on telepathy as he addressed them by name!

 

“Now, Steeto! now, Prinko! now, Deela and Prakin!

On, Cooma! On, Breema! on, Gonomo and Ranen!

To the top of the dwelling! to the top of the wall!

Now scurry away! Scurry away! Scurry away all!”

 

As crystalline particles that before wild dust storms fly,

When they meet with an impediment, ascending to the sky,

So up to the structure-top the miniature aides flew,

Transporter glowing like a ngono, and St Nicholas too.

 

And then I heard them above us, so full of glee,

The waddling, stomping and shuffling of each little tootsie.

As I retracted my cranium, and spun around to see,

Through the rear passage, St. Nicholas leaping to me.

 

He was dressed in shimmering garments, including his feet,

And he accessorized with flashy stones, his outfit complete.

A bundle of gifts was carried by his Blue assistants,

And he looked like an important being, at least from a distance.

 

His eyes-how they twinkled! his ears non-existent!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose quite insistent!

His coppery skin had so many wrinkles,

And the top of his cranium was hairless, without even sprinkles.

 

He clenched between his incisors a medical device,

From the look on his face, he bought it at bargain price.

His visage was wider than it was high for a reason,

His abdominal region made me think it was basketball season!

 

He was plump for a Martian, a multigenerational gnome,

And I laughed when I saw him, nothing like St. Nick back home!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon led me to know I had nothing to dread.

 

He transferred no thoughts, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the hosiery, then looked at me with a smirk.

And laying his finger in front of his face,

And giving a nod, disappeared with no trace!

 

He boarded his transporter, to his squad gave a sign,

And away they all flew toward the next shrine.

But my mind picked up a thought, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!

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