The Naughty List

How did I get myself into this mess?

It always has an innocent start.

Habits turn into obsessions.

Once a year, a tree lures me in

Boxes seductively wrapped, reclining on one another.

The pre-guessing begins.

But, oh, the bag! That siren!

The shifty shape didn’t elicit a proper guess,

And so, obsession, that merciless dog, ate the habit

In one swift gulp. 

Home alone,

It was okay to sneak a peak

Tissue paper savagely strewn across the floor

Gift in hand

Five days premature,

He walked around the corner.

Caught red-handed.

Sad for a girl of thirty years.