Alone, elderly, widowed,
the family all scattered —
what I dread about Christmas
is the kindness of rescuing friends …
but refusals would seem
not only rude, ungrateful, but weird.
So, false polite thanks as they drag me
from sweet Pagan solitude.
Actually, I did tell the friend who invited me this year, 'I don't really do Christmas.' But she said, ' Wouldn't you just like to come for a nice Vegan meal?' Put like that, it did sound nice, and I accepted happily.
This poem started out to be a sijo, but I needed an extra line, so I'm calling it an extended sijo.
Written for Friday Writings #157: Holiday Anxieties.
