Ode to Christmas Spode

Ode to Christmas Spode

In the Conlin home, it’s part of the code…..

to display in reverence with pride

taking all the Christmas decorating in stride

rising above it all …. is the Christmas Spode.

For those who don’t know, they’re coveted dishes -

china glazed with hand-painted Yuletide trees

it’s everything imaginable that one who sees

It is the plight of Chris Conlin, who wishes …

To display her trinkets, bells, candlesticks and plates

entails a task so cumbersome, a back could break

lamenting Spode’s absence, make no mistake

has put Mrs. Conlin in the worst of all states !

She works in silence, accepting the load

that her dear Spode collection

is not this Christmas’s selection

“well,” she cries, “this Season can go in the commode “

“So what if it’s packed in boxes in trunks, you know?

I’ll just pull it all out, and move things around –

Repeatedly, up a ladder and back to the ground

It’s a task I love, but laborious and slow.”

It’s Christmas Spode, so don’t you see?

For eleven months it sits in boxes in the dark

So patiently it sits, making no remark

‘cause in December, from their boxes they are free.

The Mr. & Mrs. have argued and rowed

to his wishes (that Grinch) she bowed,

“farewell, my dear” she finally crowed,

and crawled in the trunks with the Spode.

Her hasty retreat, her definite leave - he mocks

But sad - he misses her through the years

In his chair by a trunk, he sometimes hears

the tiny tinkling of a Spode music box.