'Twas a week before Christmas, but no cards I wrote, No letters, epistles, or even a note.
I'd just buy some at the store, but I'm way too cheap to be non-creative.
My forehead was knotted and furrowed with care, Because there was nary an idea there.
THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK -- ALMOST.
I use my computer to make all my cards, But my imagination lay broken in shards. With me and my PC alone in my house, No keyboard was clicking, not even ... well, you get the picture.
