Secret Santa

A poem on Secret Santa

Merrily skipping, year over year
The escape artiste of secret Santa
This time, no room for flight I fear
For Ben is in it, for now he has to pander

A new girl waylays his plans for a miss
Full of the Christmas spirit and joy without
Without her he stares into an abyss
All it takes is a meaningful pout

The dreaded day manifests with pomp and splendor
Ken looks left and he looks right but there’s no respite
He shrugs his shoulders in abject surrender
For Bella is at his side, all his moves despite

The hat passes around with chits of terror
Anxiety fills him as he has nowhere to hide
Heart fills with the burden of unbidden horror
For, on this gesture, a lot will ride

He wishes for John, Pete, Bill or Fred
Anyone he knows will be trivial to please
His turn comes and he darts in his hand in dread
Hoping that, at this point, time would cease

Bella smiles blissfully in eager anticipation
Ignoring the sweat Ben produces in buckets
He is now full of untethered trepidation
Anything not to be on sticky wickets

Opens the offending slip in a quick jerk
Balks at the name staring him in the face
Rues this tradition they have at work
It’s his old girlfriend, the inimitable Grace