Sunday

Just two days until that glorious morning.

I imagine to say it won’t be so boring.

I’ve wrapped, and I’ve cooked, 

I’ve decorated and looked,

For that perfect wine 

to be so sublime.

Bathrooms all scrubbed, rooms have been cleaned,

For family is coming and it all must brightly beam.

So with little left to do I patiently wait,

With a glass of Pinot Grigio for the day I know with fate.

Will bring all its chaos, packages here packages there.

Who gave the slippers, or better yet Uncle George his new fake hair.

The kitchen will be bustling with Grandma and Aunt Jo.

I’m staying out of the way with my bottle of Merlot.

The kids running around in endless circles.

The cat and the dog hide as to not end up crippled.

Meal on the table, blessing is said,

Then everyone eats, drinks and then fleds.

It will be back to the toys, the new gadgets and such,

Until the dessert is served and a little adult punch.

Sparkling champagne along with Chatham Hill Christmas White,

A toast to family and then they’ll be out for the night.

Yes I can see it, can see it so clearly now.

Christmas is coming no need to be down.

So I raise my favorite glass of Chatham Hill wine.

For soon will come a most joyful occasion and all will be fine.