With apologies to Professor Moore

'Twas the days after Christmas,
When all through the house,
Not another creature was stirring,
Not kids nor the spouse.

Though the previous week
Had been full to the top,
A pre-dawn departure
Brought it all to a stop.

The lady of the house
(with loose use of the phrase),
Confounded by quiet,
Walked 'round in a daze.

Where were her children, her husband, her duties,
The conversations, the music, the messes and beauties?
"This can't be right," she protested aloud,
Then blinked at the lack of response from the crowd.

But the solitude, the silence,
The distinct lack of clamor,
Soon settled her down
To take note of the glamour.

"I'm alone," realized she,
With dawning delight,
And danced on her toes
In the glow from the lights.

"Merry Christmas to me,"
she giggled and gasped,
Then, worn out from the dancing,
She promptly collapsed.