Ode to Gimpy

This past week, I flew to Idaho to visit my sister and her family. They won’t be able to spend Christmas with our family this year due to distance, so we were able to celebrate early and enjoy one another’s company. On Friday, my sister threw her 2nd annual Christmas ornament exchange party, where she invites many local women. We ate, visited, laughed, exchanged, stole one another’s ornaments (part of the game, not a klepto party) and had a good time. Prior to the party, my sister looked to my mother and I to write a poem about an ornament she recently had to buy at a store because she dropped and broke it. She blames it on many factors, including the fact that the store offers lotion samples. My mother tried to write the poem, but I took over. Here’s what I wrote and read at the party:

There I was a-hangin’ there
without a care in the world.
On a hook at Greenhurst
my majestic scarf unfurled.
I bothered not a single soul
but let my smile shine
until my world was shaken
by a woman-dressed quite fine.
Her chattering was the first thing
that broke through my quiet peace.
She did not notice me at first
next to the Radko trees.
As she meandered through the store
and came closer to my space
I ruffled up my scarf and hoped
she would notice my rosey face.
Her hand reached right for me.
The excitement brought me joy.
She spun around to show her friend
I was more than just a toy.
But her slick hands could not hold
onto my blimpy frame.
I began to plummet to the ground
due to this klutzy dame.
I hit the floor with a crash
and was shocked to find
my left leg had left me
there was nothing left behind.
The lady took me home that day
though she paid a pretty penny.
Now I hang upon a tree
one among ornaments many.
I did not mean her any harm
it’s not my fault I’m limpy.
So, I do not understand
why she calls me Gimpy.
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