XLVII-XLIX

XLVII.

It’s true that someday soon my world will change.
In three years’ time our dogs will likely die.
Our eldest graduates within that range,
and kiss my wife’s tuition bills goodbye.

Of course such losses cause us all some grief;
the pains of growth continue throughout life.
And yet I’m looking forward to relief,
imagining a time of lesser strife.

“You’ll miss these days,” they told us when the kids
were young and ev’ry day was so damn hard.
Romanticize the past, but God forbid
we miss the stress that left us both so scarred.

There’s loss in growing old, but also gain.
Enjoy those victories you earn through pain.


XLVIII.

‘Twas with a heavy heart I did submit
to take my kids to Walmart as they’d pled;
so close to hell it varies not one whit,
I’ll shop at any substitute instead.

To make it worse, this mid-October day
the Christmas merch was packed down ev’ry aisle.
Consumerism can’t be kept at bay
and neither now could be my rising bile.

My youngest begged to buy a four-foot Grinch.
The Krampus in me bridled at the sight.
And even now the mem’ry makes me flinch
to see St Nick before All Hallows’ Night.

This old curmudgeon classes it a crime
transplanting holidays before their time.


XLIX.

Not many know the way, yet some by chance
should happen on the Goblin Market’s wares.
If you mayhaps were offered but a glance
remember that the buyer must beware.

A faerie ointment opens vision keen—
when slathered on a healthy human eye—
of creatures that prefer to stay unseen.
Should you let on, they’ll bid your orb goodbye.

They offer feasts and travel foreign lands,
or love perhaps: an elven bride-to-be.
The music, when they strike awake the band,
will keep you dancing for eternity.

Be cautious in your dealings with the fae.
A praeternat’ral price is hard to pay.