Twas the fifteenth of December,
the bank payment was overdue.
With elves and gifts to remember
and wrapping paper all askew,
Santa forgot to mail the bill,
though he knew he would pay a fee.
For the good he tried to instill,
he thought the creditors would see
that gifts for kids had to come first,
a task that was Santa’s alone.
His worries went from bad to cursed
on the night he was to have flown.
Santa’s sleigh was repo’d that night,
and taxi fares reached a new height.
— Beth Winter
(An ink weaver, a craftsman, a wordsmith. Beth Winter writes poetry, prose and any thought that enters her mind at Eclipsing Winter. The Bar None Group extends its deepest appreciation and gratitude to Beth for sharing Repo'd.)