Eve

Of quiet, disquiet
Silent night, no choice at all
A day of scuttling running about
Culminates in fading delight;
How anticlimactic
How cruel
On the merriest eve of all
You are alone
Incandescent lamp for company
A whirling fan for noel
Potato salad, Italian porcheta
Salty cheese and wine
Spirit of the season be mine
On this eve divine.
'Tis cruel.