Ryan searched the attic,
He plucked through the shed,
Scoured the cupboards,
then
Looked under the bed.
Tippy-toed to the top shelf of the
many-shelved closet,
But the closest he came was a box full of sockets.
When it was socks he wanted!
Little socks for the tree,
To hang alongside the Polaroids
of hostellers at Thanksgiving.
These ornaments,
and those ornaments, they were all lost,
Were they in a box?
On a shelf?
Could they possibly have been
Stolen by an elf?
Nay, in these parts of the world the only non-human thieves
tend
to
Be
Bears and racoons scurrying through leaves.
Speaking of scurrying, that’s what Ryan did
When he looked
and he looked and then started worrying
Until!
In the office, in the back, in the most unlabeled of Plastic Storage Units
Sat every single one of the hostel’s Christmas ornaments.
Ryan delighted to open the box and pull them out,
While Rory and Mommy did a little shout out
To Daddy for finding the things
that Americans are supposed to dangle on trees,
or hang by the chimney with lovingly care,
The stockings and stuffers and ornaments, were all there.
