A poem by Paul Carroll.

They say "Tis the season",
But rarely quantify the statement, 
Barely justify the reason
Why we battle down the pavement 
For gifts and trinkets galore,
To wrap up messy or neat
Before we go door-to-door 
Upon our weary feet.
We do not talk of why
Old friends and family unite,
Whether to smile or cry
At good news or at plight.
Annually we gather,
For a tea or something stronger,
To say who's sick or fatter
Or with the rest of us no longer, 
To celebrate a job or baby,
And plan the following year,
When we'll meet sooner, maybe,
We promise, while we're near.
This time of year is magic,
With so much to begin.
We forget about the tragic,
Because it's Christmastime again.