‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE MURDER by Penny Hutson

 ‘Twas the night before murder when all through the book,

Not a character was plotting, not even the crook.

Reading page after page and absorbed with delight,

Every chapter expecting a murderous sight.

There I sat nestled all snug in my chair,

Reading my mystery book without care

My husband lay snoring aloud on the couch,

As I continued to read in a deepening slouch.

 

When in my front parlor there arose such a clatter,

That I put down my book to see what was the matter.

Out of the den I flew quick as I could,

After waking my husband, who grabbed a large piece of wood.

 

And what to our wondering eyes did we see?

A small red-suited guy as surprised to see us as we were he.

His bushy white beard and red and white suit,

Seemed delicately balanced with a large bag of loot.

 

We in the doorway with mouths gaping wide stood idle.

As he pulled book after book, calling each one by title:

“Gone Girl! Da Vinci Code!” and “The Long Goodbye!”

“Turn of the Screw! In Cold Blood!” and “Where Dragons Fly!”

“The Maltese Falcon! Hardy Boys!” and of course “Nancy Drew!”

He even knew titles like “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo!”

 

‘Round and ‘round the Christmas tree he flew like a dove,

Depositing more and more of the books that I love.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he continued and “Edgar Allan Poe!”

He even knew authors like Avi and Kate DiCamillo.

 

His eyes, how they twinkled! His teeth, oh, so white,

His hair was all messy, but his eyes filled with light.

His crinkled-up nose gave his face an odd look,

As he considered where to place the last book.

 

Then, he sprang to his feet; to me he did bow,

And away down the hallway he scampered somehow.

But I heard him exclaim, as he strode out of sight,

“Happy reading to all, and to all a good night!”