How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

Every Kringle in Kringletown celebrated Christmas a lot.

But Cole Black on Whistler Lane, unfortunately, did not.

Cole became a recluse during the Kringle Christmas season.

No one knew why; no one could quite give a reason.

Martha said it was because he was alone and very single.

Mae said it was because he was never named the Town Kringle.

But to me, the true reason is a story far too sad.

For at the age of eighteen, he lost both Mom and Dad.

Whatever the reason, his loss or his status of being single,

he spent Christmas in the dark, hating the cheery people of Kringle.

From his window, he would stare with a crinkle of a frown,

at the lights and the wreaths spread all throughout town.

They would sing, they would smile, they would offer him a wave.

All the while he would scowl from atop his dim, dreary cave.

For him no decorations, no cookies, no little boy drumming.

For December 1st was tomorrow, and he knew what was coming.

The town would awake, the snow lightly packed in rows.

The baubles would shine; there’d be tying of the bows.

Because just around the corner, the bells would soon jingle,

announcing the start of who’s named the Town Kringle.

Cole Black had no interest, not a lick nor a care.

Why would he take part in such an asinine affair?

“Who cares who celebrates Christmas more?” he would grumpily say,

his motto until a shift of the wind on one blustery day.

From his window he peered at the commotion over the fence.

The sight of a familiar redhead made his soulless heart grow tense.

“What is she doing here? There has to be a reason.

She can’t possibly be here for the entire Christmas season.”

But her bags stacked high, in the middle of the driveway,

were a red flag waving, announcing a very long vacay.

But why? It’s been years, exactly ten, to be fair,

since she strutted around with her deep red hair.

No, he must find out; he must stop her visit right now.

She can’t stay here, not for Christmas; he must stop it…but how?