Tradition

Tis the day before Christmas and all through the apartment, the smell of my chowder signals department. The sausage is vegetarian, the vegetables too, but the scent is reminiscent of things that are true.

There's love in the yeast rolls and that Irish butter pulls, all the heart strings that are necessary, to make us feel bold. The pie will be pumpkin, topped with whipped cream and my taste buds are already starting to scream.

The people are coming with presents tomorrow and with snow on the ground there can be no more sorrow.

We're jolly and happy and filled with true love.

Cause it's Christmas in Normal and it fits like a glove.