Problem With the Present

The post office lost the present
I posted to you this Christmas,
A perfect present for which I'd fought,
Against a greedy horde en masse.

Okay, I ordered your present online,
While reclining on memory foam,
An open fireplace burned oak and ash,
While snow drifted around my home.

But for you, it was the perfect treasure,
Something I'd been saving a long while,
To reflect how much I treasure you,
A gift that respects your lifestyle.

Okay, it was a little gadget-like thing,
Something they called a thingamabob,
A trinket, because I know you like trinkets,
Just like the doodads you always lob.

I've emailed the company's online site,
The item's manufacture, and the BBB.
Jacked, tracked, hacked my fingers raw,
Do you still live in New Jersey?

They say things happen for a reason,
I'll do my best but don't get uptight,
You know what? Just forget about it,
I'll make up for it next year, alright?

24 Lines

FOLDER

My Poetry  (E) Come as you are. #2034965 by Vanishing Vapor