A birthday poem.

T'was the night before 57
 And all through the house
 Not a creature was stirring
 Not even a mouse.

The Advil was hung on the counter with care
 In the hopes that Saint Amazon
 Soon would be there.
 The children were nestled all snug in their PS4s
 While visions of sugar-plums danced in their...doors?

And mamma at her 'laptop, and I at my...well, laptop
 Had just settled down for a long lockdown's Netflix binge.
 When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
 I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the driveway I flew like a flash

Tore open the shutters and tripped over the trash.
 The moon on the breast of the new-fallen pollen
 Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects so dear,
 When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

 But a shiny delivery truck and eight tiny...speeding tickets.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
 I knew in a moment it wasn't St. Nick.

 More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
 And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.

Now, FEDEX! now, AMAZON! now, CANADA POST!
 On, PUROLATOR! on USPS!, on GUY WITH A CAR !

 To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
 Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!

Seriously, just leave the chocolate and go.
 I mean it.
 I'm fried.
 Happy Birthday to me.